


hey, blondie.

by orphan_account



Series: i'm no good without you. [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Everybody Lives, I Tried, I Will Go Down With This Ship, M/M, Nobody is Dead, Spoilers!, The fluffiest thing I've ever written, Well I tried, Woops, actually i'm pretty sure everyone does, and lasts a lot of time in the bathroom, angst what angst, anyway, chocobro fluff, doesn't even make sense but, how else do they keep their hair that way??, i abuse the use of italics in the first chapter, i blame my own thoughts for this, i dunno what i'm doing tbh, i love tags, i need more of promptis in my life, i want a chocobo plushie, prompto has red glowing eyes, prompto uses hair products, there's just fluff, this is like, witchcraft probably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-03-14
Packaged: 2018-09-20 03:24:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9473258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Together, they reached the end.[aka, the angsty sequel that makes me question my life choices.]





	1. i'm no good without you.

**Author's Note:**

> : : : : s p o i l e r w a r n i n g : : : :  
> only read this if you know what happens on chapters 11 to 13 in the game!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's proof i can write larger stuff

Noctis raced through the hallways, desperately trying to find the one person he wished to see in that moment. His sword in hand, he slashed right through another of  _those_  things. It fell to the flour with a loud thump, but otherwise, there was nothing else distracting him.

Ardyn was being obscenely vague about everything, not telling him anything but clues, and he was forced to piece them together.

And he wanted to say that what he heard was all wrong, that Prompto had never hid any secrets from them, that Ardyn was wrong, but he couldn’t, because he didn’t know anything for sure.

And then reading those notes…

Daemons being infected people.

Those daemons powering their MTs.

Prompto being somehow involved, too.

He didn’t really know how Prompto was involved, but at this rate, he might’ve as well built the first MT or something.

It was making him really tired.

On top of all, he was all alone. Ignis wasn’t there, Gladio wasn’t there, his father wasn’t there, Luna wasn’t there. He was all by himself on this.

The hallways were empty, cold. He was sure that he had already been on that same corner about three or four times now, and the place just seemed to go on forever.

He was told, though, by Ardyn himself that he was getting close to finding his friend.

So no, he still wouldn’t give up, because he knew that if they swapped places, Prompto would’ve turned every single rock around to find him.

Even so, he couldn’t shake that twinge of anxiety in the pits of his stomach that grew stronger every time he heard a labored breath of a footstep sounded closer than before.

He was powerless, too, only being able to use the sword he had in his hand as a weapon. On top of all, some MTs that seemed to be dead already would spring back to life, grabbing him and dragging him closer to his death. And he would still hear Ardyn taunting him, telling him the same things over and over again, almost like a mantra.

So, instead of giving up, he found himself walking with a more hesitant step than the last, but he took another and another and then  _another_ step anyway.             

And he would be damned if he gave up before finding Prompto.

Despite his tiredness and his need for some sleep, he was roaming the hallways still, searching an exit.

Hearing a pair of footsteps coming closer, he quickly hid between two walls. If there was something he had learned during his time in that place, it was to be quiet when he needed to be, and to always search any place to hide before going deeper.

And maybe it was his imagination, but he was feeling like the walls were closing in on him, because his breaths were ragged and slow and he was scared, because he didn’t know what he would find and maybe he didn’t really want to know. And from the corner of his eye he saw one of those  _things_ , an infantry MT. Those were the worst, too, because know the prince knew that they used to be people, just like him and Prompto and Ignis and Gladio, but they really weren’t, they were killing machines and if he wanted to live then he would have to kill them-

And it was there, breathing, and maybe it did remind Noctis a little of an old, tired human, and once the thought invaded his mind, he couldn’t help but imagine a face, a familiar face, hiding behind the metal. And he found it in himself harder to breath, harder to focus on anything else rather than on the fact that he was killing people,  _murdering_  someone who had just as much right to live as he did.

All his life, admitting the fact that there was nothing that made the prince more valuable than any other kid, and he was now throwing all that down the drain.

His hands were trembling way  _too much_ , he noticed, and he balled them into fists, trying to stop it. It didn’t work.

The MT left, it’s movements sluggish and reassembling those of a broken machine.  _But it’s not a machine_ , his mind told him, unhelpfully. And a few moments later, it left.

Noctis sighed. He was tired.

But he couldn’t rest, he  _wouldn’t_  rest until he found Prompto.

It was the least he could do.

After all, he did push his best friend off a  _fucking moving train_ -

The prince shook his head. No use thinking about it now. He would find Prompto, and after that, he could have any thoughts he wanted.

Right now, he’d focus on the task at hand, surviving.

He walked down the empty hallway, the soft illumination feeding the creepy atmosphere. He had no power in this place. He was useless right now. His friends weren’t there, they didn’t have his back like always.

“Oh, you should really hear your,” Ardyn paused, “ _friend_ , right now. His screams are just so  _amusing_.”

If he had a mental priority list, punching Ardyn across that face was on the top five.

He clenched his teeth, he wasn’t going to let those words get in his head. No, he had to remain focused.

Ardyn’s laughter echoed the hallways, mocking him.

He passed through what he would call corpses, because truthfully, they’d once been human and now they were dead on the floor. He tried not to look at them, he really tried, but he failed, because he stared into those lifeless eyes and, Astrals, it was so  _awful_ , and he couldn’t have helped them-

His eyes widened, because a hand grabbed his ankle and dragged him down, and a second later he was slashing his sword to cut as deep as he could, even if the guilt was gnawing him on the inside-

The now truly dead MT met the floor with a clank, and the prince took a moment to catch his breath.

Was this some sick, twisted version of reality? Maybe he was in a coma and he had overactive imagination. Yeah, there was no way this was real. Except, it was, it was all  _real_  and it was happening  _right now_ , and he wasn’t going to blissfully wake up anytime soon.

He noticed his breathing was faster and hollow, he wasn’t getting  _enough_  air in and his mind vaguely registered it as a panic attack of some sort. It had happened once (or several times)  _already_  but Ignis had  _been there_ , telling him to  _breathe_ , and Prompto had looked at him with those  _worried_ , violet-blue eyes and asked him to focus on him, and Gladio had been watching his back. And now, there was no one to tell him what to do, and he felt like he was going to just die right then and there, but no, he couldn’t give up. He noticed the tears on his eyes a fraction of a moment later, and he raised a  _violently_  shaking hand to wipe them, because warriors don’t cry so since he was a prince, he should never shed a tear.

But all that was false,  _so_   _false_ , because he was  _human_  too, like those robots, and he  _deserved_  to be able to handle his own emotions whatever way he felt like handling them.

And his back hit the wall, but it didn’t hurt- or at least the pain didn’t register on his brain. Then, he tried to think of something,  _anything_ , but his thoughts came coming back to his situation and he would  _kill_  for seeing Prompto again, but then, he was  _already doing that_.

He felt sick, his stomach  _twisted_  and  _turned_  in ways that were  _not_  possible, but he stood firm once more, just as he had been taught to ever since he was a kid.

He heard Ardyn  _taunting_  him, teasing him and cracking up, so the prince guessed that it was because of his shaking body and his teary eyes, but he didn’t  _care_ , didn’t  _want_ to care.

And another MT, another human like him, came through the door that had been closed a second ago (and maybe it had been Ardyn’s doing), and it saw him. It started walking like a toddler would, stumbling every few steps and it was close and getting closer so he readied his sword.

Then, it launched itself at him, so he dodged, and stabbed it on its back. It felt just as bad as before, or at least he thought so, but turned out that it now felt  _worse_.

All he had wanted, all he had  _wanted_  was to find Prompto. This wasn’t what he had expected.     

He took deep breaths in, then let them out as he counted. It was how he’d manage to start working again last time. If he had to describe this feeling, it would be something among the lines of feeling like he’s about to die and that was the punishment the Astrals thought he deserved. Definitely not a welcome feeling, but he couldn’t do anything about it. It just… happened. And each time, he always wished the earth would just swallow him whole or that Titan would throw a giant boulder at him to end his suffering. Each time, it never happened. Instead, he got tea from Ignis. With actual sugar.  _Actual sugar_.

Eventually, his breathing became somewhat normal. Better than before, at least. He sighed, walking to the now open door. At least he didn’t have to do anything else to go through it, he guessed.

There wasn’t much hope, but he walked forward anyway.

And then, a few minutes later (or maybe hours, he didn’t know how long he had been there), he was stuck in a hallway, both of the ends taunting him with whatever magic, whatever  _technology_  it was made of, and he knew it wouldn’t be good at all if he touched it.

Naturally, he found himself fighting against the MTs, trying to keep himself alive while also killing those things that he, unfortunately,  _knew_ would explode. They were ticking bombs, literally, and he didn’t want to turn into a burnt, scarred corpse. They were hard, they were made out of metal but his sword was harder, and he was stronger- or, well, he liked to think so.

The walls were closing in on him, and so was his throat, but he still fought, fought as fast as he could because he knew that once there was no space between him and those walls, he would be dead. Or maybe not, because Ardyn was a sadistic little  _shit_ , and he would surely keep the prince alive for his own sick, twisted entertainment.

“Hurry up,” Ardyn told him. “While you dawdle, people are  _dying_.”

And then, answering his prayers, came two muffled voices. “Noct? Is that you?” “Hey? Noct? Can you hear us?”

Noctis could’ve cried. “Ignis? Gladio?”

But instead, he resorted to continue swinging his sword. And they talked, desperately, about a switch being there, something to turn the damn thing off. Ignis said it was the reason they were there, and Noctis wanted to cry again, because that was probably true.

And before he knew it, his friends were there again, with him, for him. And they could fight together again, and Noctis wanted to handcuff himself with the rest so that they’d never be alone again. But that would sound, and  _be_ , weird.

So they actually did, they fought together, but there was still a very important presence missing, the team’s sharpshooter, the life of the party, the chocobo fanatic. And Ignis seemed very calm, extremely so, but the prince could notice. He noticed the stains of sweat and his stiffened shoulders and he knew that Ignis was probably screaming inside. Then Gladio, Gladio seemed just as disturbed as Noctis and it made him feel bad.

He tried too hard to not hug any of them, because that would show how desperate, how _craving_ he was of affection.

Not even the prince was spared from that.

They had keys, they had hints, they knew were to go. But Ignis found a room that looked like it was made for people to sleep in, and he said “I believe we need a break, Noct.” So the prince was glad, because Ignis had said _we_ , not _you_. And he had nodded, and headed in, followed closely by the two people that had always been beside him since he was born. He sat down in a bed, and cringed, because those beds felt worse than the ground, and Ignis and Gladio noticed, so they took a chair each. They seemed softer, at least.

And the Astrals knew he was grateful, he _truly_ was, but he _needed_ Prompto.

So they rested, wordlessly, because there was nothing to do, nothing to say.

Gladio seemed to comfort Specs by rubbing his back, as calm as he could, but Noctis’s eyesight allowed him to see how bad his hands were trembling too, so much like his own, and it made him feel something akin to guilt, but not quite so.

Even if the silence was awkward and uncomfortable, no one broke it. It usually was the blonde’s job. But he wasn’t in, and the thought filled him with vigor, so the three took off again.

Then, they reached the place Ardyn said Prompto was in.

And to be honest, it was  _terrifying_. Straight out a horror film, like the ones he watched with his best friend when they were at his apartment at night. Old corpses adorned the dark, unclean cells and it made him want to throw up. It was awful, it smelled awful, and it made him shiver whenever he thought of getting a step closer, because the mere sight made him nauseous, and he could only imagine what would he do if he was ever inside.

Together, they reached the end.

Ignis and Gladio exchanged uncomfortable looks then, because what happened next was not expected, just as many aspects of their daily lives.

Prompto was standing there, but it was  _not_  his Prompto.

His freckles stood out against the dark of the room, but his  _eyes_. His eyes weren’t a violet-blue anymore, they were  _red_ , red orbs that seemed to glow. And his lip was drawn in a thin line, and his hair was slightly ruffled, like someone had tried to brush it to no avail, and it was dirty, like he’d just been running down a field moments before.

And his _clothes_.

His clothes had red stains in them.

Noctis almost cried, but Ignis was there, and so was Gladio, and he couldn’t cry in front of them. No, he _wouldn’t_. 

Even if his pride was basically nonexistent (after all, he had broken down before the eyes of his enemy), he wouldn’t allow to let his friends, his closest friends, to see him cry. To see him as weak and vulnerable as he felt. No, he wouldn’t.

And then those eyes, those glowing red eyes, found him, and he hoped. Hoped for a sparkle of excitement and to see a grin break out on his (no, he wasn’t) best friend’s face. He hoped for all of this to be a bad dream or some prank. But it wasn’t, it was very real and he was in the middle of it.

“Hey, Blondie.” The prince called out, softly, even if the man who stood at the end of the hallway was not his Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i tried to write what goes on noct's mind this time, like truly everything. i've always thought he must have some sort of anxiety or at least conflicted feelings. i mean, his dad was dying, he was only 22 and he needed to be a king at a young age and gLADIO DOESN'T HELP  
> anyways ignis isn't blind  
> luna's alive  
> so is king regis  
> they'll play a part on this


	2. red glowing eyes.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had to fight, but not fight Prompto.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i AM SORRY I DID NOT MEAN TO DO THIS SO LARGE 
> 
> i half wanted to split this chapter in two because it got bigger than i expected- but then i was like, "where the hell am i supposed to cut it fUCK"  
> so, yeah, here it is.

Prompto had a dream, once.

He’d fallen asleep alongside his best friend -who was also a _prince_ \- the one and only, Noctis. The night had been tranquil, but he wished he could’ve said the same about his thoughts.

He dreamt. He was on his old classroom again, he felt himself weighting more until he couldn't _move_ , and he was shrinking into himself as stare after stare placed itself onto him, and then there was Noctis, and Noctis was waving, saying his usual hello. But he wasn’t listening, the voices sounded so  _far_   _away_ -

And the clock was ticking, and it was doing so _violently_ , and it grew bigger and bigger until it was all that Prompto saw.

But he still woke up, at the same time as Ignis, who asked him what was wrong. Worried blue-violet orbs met concerned green ones, and it wouldn't be the last time.

* * *

 

Noctis knew exactly what to do.

Well, it was mostly his instinct telling him, but he didn’t really mind. He had to _fight_ , but not fight _Prompto_.

Fight _for_ Prompto.

And Gladio took his sword out, because clearly, Prompto was hostile, aggressive, and the prince like to think that Prompto would never hurt him on purpose. And even if this Prompto -who wasn’t the same as his best friend, even if they looked the same- hurt him, he wouldn’t hold it against the other, because this was  _not_  Prompto. This was some twisted version,  _Ardyn’s_  version, of him.

Not-Prompto’s hand brushed the gun sitting against his thigh, sensing what must’ve seemed like unfriendliness. And it was, because Gladio even scowled.

But he had to stop,  _stop_  thinking this way, because Prompto wasn’t a  _machine_ , he wasn’t one of  _those_  things.  _And_ , his mind reminded him, _this wasn’t Prompto either_.

 _Who_  was Prompto, then? What made him  _different_  from the man who stood in front of him? What made him different from the MTs?

The prince shook his head. There was no point questioning that now. He had to focus, focus on his friend, to get him back. And he would, but he needed time to actually think about it. But they were running low on  _that_ , every second ticking faster than the last and maybe he had a clock inside his head.

He locked his gaze on Ignis. “Please,” he begged, and Ignis understood.

But Ignis wasn’t only his advisor, who knew that this was all wrong, he was also his  _friend_ , his  _brother_ , his  _family_ , and family helps family. Specs nodded. “Gladio,” he harshly whispered out, somehow with a general air of indifference, because the last thing he needed was Prompto (no, he didn’t quite feel like the blonde that he’d met one day as he entered Noctis’s apartment and found an extra sleeping body in the couch) attacking them.

Gladio dropped his offensive stance, setting on a more protective one instead. Maybe Prompto wasn’t fooled, but Prompto probably had the mind of an MT right now and as far as he knew MTs don’t  _feel_ , they don’t  _understand_  and they can’t tell the  _difference_  between fighting to _defend_  and fighting just for the  _sake_  of fighting. Even so, Prompto’s hand fell limply to his side again.

The prince was grateful, he was. And he knew he’d made mistakes, and he intended to face the consequences, so why was his best friend paying his tab for him?

And if it couldn’t have gotten any  _worse_ , the lights flickered several times, Ardyn’s laughter booming through the halls, reminding him of just how useless he was right now.

Prompto, but not Prompto either, was still standing quietly, and he was unmoving, like a rock. But, Noctis decided, Prompto wasn’t a rock, or a bishop, he was his  _knight_. His eyes flickered between the three, possibly analyzing whether they were a threat or not.

Then Noctis stepped closer, softly, just as anyone would do when trying to approach a hurt chocobo.

The prince would’ve expected Prompto to get farther away, to back down, because that was what he usually did when intimidating. Then he remembered, this still wasn’t Prompto  _at all_ , and the blonde actually got a step  _closer_ , mimicking him.

Ignis was watching carefully, like a hawk, ready to intervene if _anything_ went wrong. Gladio, likewise, was ready to knock out anyone if there were any signs of hostility.

And to anyone’s surprise, really, the blonde tentatively stepped once, then twice, and then  _thrice_  closer. He didn’t even once reach for his gun, draw out a weapon, or try anything to harm the prince. He was like a curious cat, and honestly, the prince didn’t know what to think of it, so he didn’t.

Noctis moved closer. Carefully, and slowly, but he was closer too, and even if he was exposed, he had a hand at his side ready to yield the only sword in his possession. Gladio was undoubtedly proud.

The prince stared at those red orbs, remembering how they used to be a deep blue-violet, reminding him of the universe and the stars. Now, they reminded him of bloodshed, of wars and unshared words.

Those same eyes stared right back at him, searching.

And Noctis basically _invited_ him to get closer if that was what the blonde wanted, but the blonde truly was a machine (was he not? Maybe he had always been a machine- but no, the MTs didn’t express as much feelings as Prompto), because he didn’t really move at all, didn’t understand the feelings flashing on the prince’s eyes.

Maybe he needed to try a more artificial approach? No, what was he thinking? Just because Prompto (not-Prompto?) was working just as a machine would, it didn’t mean that he had to act like a robot would to get another robot to understand him.

“Something wrong with your _friend_ , your Highness?” Ardyn taunted him, emphasizing the word _friend_ just because he _knew_ that it would feel like a slap across the face to Noctis.

Gladio scowled, he was 0.34 seconds away from blowing everything up and yell at the bastard, but Ignis’s calm hand came to rest on his arm, and he only scowled even deeper, if it was possible.

While Noctis really wanted to know how in hell they kept hearing Ardyn’s voice, he didn’t dwell on it for long, because there was someone else occupying his thoughts right now.

And said man wasn’t even moving, at all. He wondered if Prompto still had to breathe- or eat, for that matter.

Hesitantly, he reached a hand and settled it on Prompto’s shoulder, who inevitably flinched at the contact. However, the dark-haired man didn’t take the hand away, just grasped tighter.

Prompto’s red orbs settled on the hand, and he blinked once.

His lack of response most likely meant to discourage him, but it only filled the prince with determination.

“I formerly apologize, your Highness,” Ardyn’s _clearly_ unapologetic voice carried through the room. ”I’m afraid did not have as much time to… _upgrade_ him as I would have preferred.”

“He still _never_ listens to me,” Ardyn sighed with a dreamy voice, like he was living in a fantasy world, his words breathy and calm.

And just with those words, the prince’s free hand balled into a fist, and Ignis stepped closer to him and away from Gladio, to make sure he was okay. Gladio frowned, and his eyes were _burning_.

Prompto seemed just as indifferent about everything.

And it didn’t matter, though, because they’d used their spare time already just to find out nothing about this Prompto, who was so different from the one that the prince met back when they were kids.

He sent a pleading glance once more towards his brothers.

He couldn’t leave Prompto behind.

He wasn’t ready for that- he hadn’t gone through all of it just to find out that he was what anyone else would name a lost cause.

And he only hoped the other two understood.

They did, because Ignis seemed to come up with a plan, one that he had been about to speak as his mouth opened, but Gladio (with his hothead antics) beat him to it.

And it wasn’t the only thing he would beat that day, because in a matter of seconds, he was behind Prompto.

Prompto noticed him, and he moved faster, out of the way.

What Gladio lacked for speed and for strategy, however, he made up with his strength and with his way to get close to enemies without getting harmed as well.

And with a simple punch, Prompto fell unconscious.

Noctis had been about to yell at him because why the hell would he ever do that to his best friend, and Ignis seemed just as shocked as he was. He really would’ve punched Gladio across his smug face, but he was more focused on catching Prompto, so he did.

And man, the blonde was basically weightless in his arms.

Ignis still reprimanded Gladio as they walked outside, saying how he should’ve done something else, anything but attack Prompto, seeing as how the blonde could’ve been injured already (and he had most _likely_ been, considering that he _did_ fall of a train because he _pushed_ him and his savior had been none other but the chancellor). Gladio, however, stopped listening seven minutes into the rant. Ignis didn’t care, and kept scolding him.

Noctis was getting very tired of everything.

He wanted to go to a comfortable bed, fall asleep the second his body hits the mattress and wake up with a familiar sleeping form with a bunch of blonde hair at his side the next morning, the latter with both his own phone and camera, clutching them tight as if they were teddy bears.

Of course, that didn’t happen, because the Astrals _hated_ him and by consequence, he wanted to hate them too. He couldn’t, though, because Prompto was with him again, even if it wasn’t Prompto.

Then they found a giant daemon standing in their way.

“We’ve got it covered,” Ignis reassured him, because he needed to make sure that no one harmed Prompto and he couldn’t fight and take care of two people at once.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from slashing through the beast’s stomach several times, whenever he found a chance to make actual damage.

It was a tough battle, one that clearly was unplanned and one-sided. There were times in which Gladio expected a certain blonde to start firing at any opening, or for the prince to warp everywhere, including in front of him (it had happened once or twice, and each time, he had almost slashed Noct in half- Ignis and Prompto freaked out like mother chocobos after that).

Ignis had thrown daggers with more accuracy than Noctis felt possible.

Even so, Gladio had actually listened to Iggy’s plan for the first time, and the daemon was taken down by the pair faster and far easier than the team had expected.

Noctis had taken close to zero time in approaching his friend, still carrying Prompto bridal-style (no, he was not going to treat his friend like a sack of potatoes, thank you very much). He offered a half-assed smirk. “Maybe we should listen to you after all.”

Specs rolled his eyes. “I doubt you would be able to absorb the information, considering your short attention spans.”

Noctis gasped, feigning hurt. “Are you talking about me? I can actually _concentrate_.”

“Sometimes,” Iggy added.

The atmosphere felt light, but it still had tension rolling on it like waves. Ignis still had a faraway look in his eyes, and Gladio looked furious. If anything, he wanted to make a comment on it, about how their faces would stay like that for the rest of their lives, but he kept his mouth shut.

Prompto still hadn’t moved an inch, after all.

He’d be lying if he said that it didn’t worry him, because it did. A lot.

And eventually, they reached a dead end, the only exit locking behind them. One of the doors would not budge, even if Gladio had kicked it repeatedly with his whole force and attempted to tackle it (it didn’t work, either, and he only ended up with Ignis worrying over him).

“Perhaps your little blonde can be of help,” the chancellor’s voice rang in their ears. “Have you ever wondered what he hides under his wristband?” he asked, basically purring.

It was tempting, he knew, because he had noticed Prompto’s absolute refusal of taking it off, not even when they were in the lake. He had brushed it off with the excuse of it being an important memento or maybe an amulet of sorts, but until now, he’d never thought of taking it off. And he looked into his friends’ eyes, and he knew that they shared thoughts.

But now, with everything that had happened, they hadn’t noticed his bare wrist.

“There is no need to worry,” the man’s voice was harsh but gentle at the same time, and it was confusing, “for he does not wear it anymore. If you want to get out, then you’ll have to forget about his _boundaries_.”

In that single moment, Noctis declared the chancellor as not a sociopath, but a _psychopath_ \- a very sick, twisted, and dark one.

Ignis and Gladio seemed to _not_ want to look into Prompto’s wrist, and it was _good_ , because Noctis didn’t want to either.

Wordlessly, they agreed on not doing so, instead opting to look for another way out. _Anything_ but that.

“You never knew of our little agreement, did you, Prince Noctis?” Ardyn asked, making said prince hastily place a fist on the ground beside him.

“He told me he’d give _anything_ if I let you go,” the man continued, dramatically.

Noctis shook his head. He wouldn’t listen to it, and if he didn’t, he would be blissfully unaware and that was the one thing he wanted right now.

“So I took him away from you,” Ardyn finished, content.

Nobody commented on what he said.

Ignis had spent almost half an hour trying to make sense of the technology and how to actually power it up so it could open a door. However, he had fiddled with basically every single button and there was no sign of a door opening up. Then Ignis reminded himself, the tech junkie was Prompto, who would’ve figured it out (despite his constant lack of attention to important matters and his ADHD) in a matter of minutes.

Gladio had, instead, prompted to slash through every single wall, trying to make a hole big enough for at least the prince. The walls were somehow harder than the metal of his sword, though, and there had been no result. The door only had a few scratches, and Gladio’s sword had almost _shattered_. What the hell?

Noctis had waited for Prompto to wake up, and nothing had happened, either.

“Do you give up now?” the chancellor asked with fake concern and fake _everything_ , honestly.

“No,” the prince replied in a firm tone.

“Very well,” Ardyn answered, clearly exasperated by his answer, and once again, they were alone.

Minutes of silence passed by.

“Perhaps we should give up,” Ignis offered, even if his voice said how much he did not wish to do so. “We will only starve to death.”

“No,” Noctis shook his head. It felt like he was about to betray Prompto, and he didn’t want to do that. Not now, and not in a million years. He hugged the body (since when had he started hugging the blonde?) closer to him.

Ignis sighed. “We know how it feels, Noct.” He tried using a calming voice.

“You don’t,” the prince said, looking at Ignis’s eyes. “You really don’t,” he whispered, because when he had first befriended Prompto, he’d made a promise to himself. He wouldn’t let anything happen to his first friend, the only one who had talked to him without having any ties. So far, he had done a very bad job of keeping his promise up.

“Listen,” Gladio’s gruff voice reached their ears. “You can’t help Prompto if you’re dead.”

Noct took a deep breath in. “I know that,” he told him, because it was the truth. He just didn’t really want to accept it, not at all.

Another moment passed, and Ignis and Gladio snuck closer to him, yet still at a respectable distance.

Ignis, always the careful one of the bunch, took a hold of the limp sharpshooter’s arm, lifting it up so only the three of them could see. There was no one else around, except Ardyn, but Ardyn knew what was going on. Still, he felt better if it stayed a secret.

In that pale arm, along all the bruises and cuts that the male seemed to have (and he definitely didn’t before, Noctis noted, bitterly), they could clearly see a codeprint. It looked like it had been carved into his skin with something burning, because even if it looked old, it was scarred and it took a moment for Noctis to notice that he had started _shaking_ and that Ignis had placed a hand on his shoulder, like he had done with Gladio. It was… relaxing, actually.

It would’ve been a lot better if Prompto had been the one to tell them, if they hadn’t been _forced_ to find out by their enemy

The trembling prince slowly stood up, guessing that the imprints must be some sort of key if Ardyn had pointed them out. This was like some perverse game of chess in which they were only pawns and Ardyn had him cornered.

And as it turned out, they _were_ like a key, the door opening immediately.

“Our magitek _do_ have access to anywhere in the building, after all.” Ardyn bragged, like a proud father.

There was nothing else they needed, though, because the crystal’s location had been revealed to be in a secret base by some of the glaives (from the few that had survived and weren’t with the Oracle, at least), even if it had felt like it _was_ a set up. It wasn’t really a trap when they got there, but the crystal had been moved somewhere else, and it was merely Ardyn’s silent way to tell them he still had control over them and what he could do.

Now, the prince had everything he wanted.

He just needed to stop Ardyn.

* * *

 

The ride back to the entrance had been mostly quiet, except for the occasional MT infantry that had spotted them. It was true, the codeprint gave away access to everywhere. It still made him feel sick to his stomach.

Ignis told them how Gladio must’ve done some serious damage, or Prompto was asleep (recharging? No, Prompto still wasn’t a machine, was he?), because he had yet to wake up. Noctis tried his best not to worry, but he couldn’t.

It felt bittersweet, honestly.

They’d walked to the Regalia silently (thank you Cindy for the _countless_ times she had repaired it) together, and settled inside.

This time, Gladio climbed shotgun as Noctis placed the sleeping (he wasn’t dead, because his heart was still beating) blonde in the backseats, then the prince got inside as well, placing his best friend’s face in his lap. Ignis reluctantly took the wheel, apparently also preferring to keep an eye on Prompto- he would’ve done so, but Noct was already doing a good job of that.

“It’s beautiful outside,” Ignis noted.

Noctis hummed.

They were all tired, their breaths slow and deep. If you looked at their eyes you could see the exhaustion and the bags beneath.

And if anything, Noctis looked the worse out of them.

Specs pulled over the nearest motel (it happened to be an hour and a half drive –almost two- and Gladio slept through all of it), and they agreed on eating Cup Noodles without complaints, because no one wanted to interact with anyone else right now.

They just wanted to sleep.

“This is good,” Noctis had said just to break the silence as he messily slurped his food (it reminded Ignis of how he would eat his spaghetti when they were kids, making such a huge mess on the floor, his clothes, his cheeks and even his _hair_ ).

“Yeah,” Gladio agreed, but how couldn’t he? It was his favorite food.

Ignis shook his head. “That does not make it any less _unhealthy_.” He seemed to be angrily eating his food, too, but that was normal because he was the only one that didn’t really like the manufactured food (he didn’t pick up herbs while they were outside for _nothing_ ).

Nobody said anything after that.

They took the same sleeping agreements as always. Ignis and Gladio in one bed, Prompto and Noctis in the other.

The last time they’d slept like this felt like so long ago, and it only made Noctis feel worse. The bed didn’t feel as empty, like the first night without the blonde. He had woken up exactly fifty minutes after he fell asleep (which had been exactly at one in the morning, and it had been out of restlessness) because of a nightmare, and there had been no blonde comforting him and saying that it wasn’t real. The second night, he had attempted to cuddle with empty space while he had been asleep and ended up falling off the bed.

Somehow, that night, the prince actually fell into deep slumber without any complications at all. even if he didn’t dream, it was by far the best night since the train.

However, at the exact time that Ignis got out of bed the morning after, Prompto’s eyes fluttered open.

Indifferent red orbs met concerned green ones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woopity woopity woopy woop  
> what the hell am i doing with my lIFE  
> please point out any mistakes! i didn't read this through i need a beta reader help  
> woopity woopity woopy woo p


	3. memories.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The blonde was having very conflicted thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for not getting this chapter out sooner! i went to watch a dog's purpose (i started crying five minutes into the movie and didn't stop even after we got out of the room)  
> anyways, here it is!

Ignis calmly set his coffee down on the small table the motel provided. He wasn’t seeing any signs of hostility, which was relatively good. Unless the chancellor had done something to the blonde’s brain- but he wasn’t going to think about that. Not right now.

He met the red colored eyes that he had now acknowledged as Prompto’s. They held no emotion in them.

The blonde sat up in bed, and his movements seemed almost mechanical. They probably were. He was still glancing at Ignis, but his eyes flickered every few moments to watch the peacefully sleeping prince at his side. Even if it didn’t look quite so, Ignis was prepared to stab anyone in the neck in less than three seconds, which he guessed wasn’t enough time for Prompto to harm Noct.

It was worrying, because Prompto had not spoken a single word since yesterday, and he had spent more time than he should unconscious. He guessed it was because Gladio tended to punch the enemies (Prompto hadn’t been deemed as an enemy yet, but it was better to contemplate the possibility rather than forget about it) with all the strength he possessed.

Gladio suddenly stood up, stretching his arms and the bed creaked very loudly (it did nothing to wake the prince). Even with his tired eyes and sleepiness, he could’ve taken out any threat in a matter of minutes at that early hour. It came with being the shield, after all. It was even  _more_  needed whenever the prince’s ability to sleep through a tornado became evident. “Morning,” he yawned.

“Good morning,” Ignis nodded.

Silently, the shield looked at Ignis questioningly. The latter displayed through his eyes that no, Prompto still hadn’t attacked them or tried anything.

The blonde was just watching silently, with a small tilt to his head, reassembling a cat’s. His eyes still showed no emotion. It was starting to irk him, since he usually could tell what Prompto was thinking by looking into his eyes.

Gladio seemed to despise the idea of dealing with anything  _that_  early, but he needed to stay. Just in case. And what was better than waking up the prince at such an “ungodly hour”? Well, certainly nothing.

The large man walked over to Noctis’s bed, deciding to simply shake the prince awake this time (sadly, he didn’t have a bucket of cold water like the other day).

Prompto was staring at both of them, and for once, Ignis could detect at least some confusion emanating from him.

Noct only stirred a bit, mumbling incoherent words.

Gladio shook him even further and harder.

Noctis groggily swatted at the larger arm that was bothering him.

Gladio, already getting frustrated, mercilessly pinched his arm.

Noctis squeaked and jumped in his bed, Gladio snickering behind him. “What the hell?” he asked, his eyes making his way to Ignis, clearly discontent with the way he was brought back to life from his deep slumber.

“You should’ve heard yourself,” the shield then made a very high-pitched squeal that perfectly matched the prince’s, making him huff indignantly.

“I do  _not_  sound like that,” he muttered under his breath, his eyes still half-lidded.

However, all the remaining sleep suddenly disappeared from his face as he turned to face his best friend, his expression a hopeful one. He was expecting something, it seemed, but the blonde still didn’t speak. Not a single word. Very unlike Prompto, who would’ve been chatting his head off about one thing or the other (no one ever really managed to catch up with his conversations but Iris, who’d reply just as enthusiastically).

“Good morning,” the prince rasped out to, well, everyone in the room. His hair was the perfect definition of a bird’s nest. Truthfully, Ignis wouldn’t be  _that_  impressed if a baby chocobo jumped out from it.

Noct got out of bed, and his advisor wordlessly handed him a cup of tea as well (with three tablespoons of sugar and just the  _tiniest_  bit of milk). “Thanks,” he mumbled as he drank greedily, his throat hurting from all the crying of yesterday- not that he’d complain aloud.

Gladio was observing the blonde intently, but after a minute or so, he gave up and trotted his way over to Ignis, who had made drinks for everyone in advance. He was the type that enjoyed his coffee, though, so he took small sips. He was smirking behind his cup, watching as the prince kept sending looks to the blonde (who still hadn’t responded besides blinking a couple of times).

“I believe we should restock our supply of curatives,” Ignis excused himself, and dragged Gladio behind him as the latter choked on his drink. They basically ran out of the door (they might as well have  _suspicious behavior_ scribbled on their foreheads with very bright markers), letting the other two have the moment they much needed. However, there was truly no plan to get more potions, and they instead opted for taking a walk outside, not getting that far away in case the prince needed help.

Noctis set his tea down, sighing. He had close to no idea of how to talk to anyone in a situation like this, since it was usually the other who started it. Prompto still didn’t say a word, but he seemed very calm in comparison to the prince.

“I’m sorry,” Noct shakily started, but he didn’t know what to say next. For pushing you off a train? For taking so long on finding you? For letting Ardyn find you first? For being a horrible friend?

He was only a few seconds away from crying all over again, but he couldn’t. Not when Prompto had taken the worst blow of the two and still didn’t shed a tear.

* * *

 

The blonde was having very conflicted thoughts. Very conflicted, yes.

For once, he wanted to give in to those voices, the ones that greatly reassembled the chancellor’s, and just strangle the man sitting at his side to death right then and there. They kept telling him that they wouldn’t leave him alone until Noctis was dead, or until  _he_  died. They reminded him of bloodshed, an unfinished war, an unhappy scientist (father?) and the corpses of people who didn’t deserve any of it.

On the other hand, there was another voice. A small once, compared to the rest who screamed inside his head. It was soft, and he vaguely recognized it as his own voice (but he hadn’t talked in a long time, so he had no way to know if it truly was his). It told him nice things, he guessed. Tried to remind him of nicer days (had they existed or were they part of his imagination?), tried to make him remember of the kindness he’d been shown.

He had forgotten that he wasn’t just alive for the sake of listening, but that he also had to speak for himself if he wanted to get things done.

But, he’d also forgotten what emotion he was feeling. Sadness? Anger? Happiness? Regret? Bitterness? What was the difference between which, again? He wouldn’t feel… surprised? (was it really surprised, or was it called something else?) if it turned out that Ardyn had done something to whatever it was that he believed he was going through, because Ardyn had already screwed his memories over and over until they were replays of nothing but pain and no one to look up to.

He couldn’t even remember his own  _name_. For some reason, though _, Noctis_ ,  _Prompto_ , _Ignis_ and _Gladiolus_  had engraved themselves deep into his mind, and he could at least tell that the one with the darkest hair was Noctis, right? Maybe he should ask, because maybe his name was Noctis and the other was Ignis.

(Even so, it was deeply carved into his brain that those names meant trouble, and trouble meant pain, and he didn’t want to feel any pain.)

It didn’t really matter when he saw those blue eyes again, because the small voice grew  _bigger_  and  _bigger_  until it wasn’t small, not at all, and it kept telling him to comfort the prince. How could he really comfort anyone when he could barely tell what he was feeling himself?

It didn’t matter, he supposed.

He blinked in confusion, looking for any motion that  _could_  be recognized as calming. Okay, so if hurting anyone was considered upsetting for others, then not touching at all was relaxing? No, that couldn’t be it.  

As an afterthought, he tried speaking. He was ready to talk. But what was he supposed to talk about? His mouth snapped shut.

 _Try asking instead_ , his voice (was it his, or someone else’s?) told him.

“Who am I?” his voice cracked, and he reasoned that it was because all he had done in the past few days was scream. He really, really wanted to know what his name was. He  _really_  hoped it wasn’t Gladiolus, though, because it was a  _mouthful_  and so far he had only been able to speak in one-syllable words.

And even if they were short words, the other’s world came crashing down. Well, it was what it looked like to him. Honestly, he couldn’t tell. But he guessed that the expression was sad? And sad wasn’t good, apparently.

He still didn’t know if he should choke the male to death or not. Maybe he should? Well, he definitely could, but  _being able to_  and  _having to_ were different. Right?

“You don’t remember anything?” the other man whispered, softly? It was like how Ardyn would speak to him when the blonde spoke out of place and he had to be punished, but it didn’t set him on edge.

Unable to form words, he nodded. Nodding was a way to affirm one’s statement, right? He’d seen Ardyn do it a couple of times, so he guessed its meaning.

“Let’s start this easy, then,” the dark haired man started to speak, still in that tone of voice (was it meant to be calming? Because it really was  _soothing_ , in a weird way that made him want to go to sleep again). He paused for a few seconds, probably to gather his thoughts. “You’re Prompto Argentum,” and yeah, his name was really Prompto. For some reason, it made him feel the slightest bit better- maybe it was pride? Either way, he adjusted fairly quickly from not remembering his name to getting it back, and it was weird. Maybe the man was telling the truth.

“You’re twenty years old,” but Prompto didn’t really mind knowing or not his age. He couldn’t tell what was real from the memories stored in his brain, anyway, so why should he care?

“You really like chocobos,” the other man sighed. Chocobo? Sounded familiar, it really did, but what was a chocobo? He wanted to ask, but he felt like he shouldn’t.

“You also like taking pictures.” That sounded nice, he guessed. He had beautiful memories of landscapes, and he really loved them- even if the full memory turned out to be some sort of nightmare, with enemies in every corner and the night being eternal and someone stabbing him in the back.

“You like spicy food.” He hadn’t eaten anything in a while, should he be concerned? He hadn’t seen Ardyn eat anything either…

“You can’t cook to save your own life,” the man continued, fondly? “But that’s okay, neither can I,” he laughed.

“Also, you’re good with guns.” Prompto really wanted to explain that all MTs were able to use guns, but refrained from doing so. Ardyn’s words echoed in his head. He was there to listen, not to speak.

“And, I’m your best friend, Noct,” the man said, a tear sliding down his cheek.

Prompto started panicking. Noct (Noctis?) was crying and crying meant sad, and sad wasn’t good, so he needed to stop the man from crying. The problem was, he didn’t really know what to do. He remembered being in that dark place with Ardyn at his side (too  _close_ , Ardyn was _always_  too close), and he remembered crying and it was awful because it also hurt.

In a half-winged attempt to make a reassuring action, he engulfed Noct (it was a really weird name) in a hug. He remembered his mother (was it his mother, or someone else?) hugging him once, wishing him good luck. He didn’t really understand what had happened, but from the faded memory he could recognize something about being too smart in science, more than a regular kid, and handy with technology, more than most adults, and getting a scholarship? And it was weird, because he remembered the school he had gone to and he felt alone whenever he thought of that place.

Either way, he guessed that it was a wrong action, because Noct started to cry even more.

He was three seconds away from going on a full blown-out panic, but the dark haired man wrapped his arms around him, and Prompto felt something that he hadn’t in a long time.

* * *

 

 _He was being held against something,_ someone _warm. It was nice, it was quiet, it was tranquil and the person embracing him smelt like flowers, soap, and pie._

_It was a woman, the person holding him._

_Maybe someone he trusted, maybe someone he cared about. Maybe she cared about him, too._

_Her flowing hair tickled his cheek, but he didn’t complain._

* * *

 

Prompto was still hugging the stranger, even if he wasn’t a  _stranger_ , but Prompto had never met him before. He remembered that very same stranger pushing him away and it only made him wary of his surroundings.

The hug was tight, more than Prompto would’ve liked, but he didn’t complain because he didn’t have a reason to. If Ardyn liked seeing him in pain, then he could only guess what Noct wanted.

Even if he didn’t fully feel safe, he felt like he trusted Noct. And he knew that it wasn’t a good thing, because he had trusted Ardyn too for a small while and during that time he had never felt so in danger.

“I’m sorry,” Noct choked out between tears and hiccups and Prompto could tell that his shirt was stained but for the first time, it wasn’t stained with his blood. “I’m so sorry, Prompt. I shouldn’t have let anything happen to you, I should’ve, I should’ve-“

But Prompto hushed him (like Ardyn did, once, when Prompto didn’t stop screaming), and only returned the embrace even tighter.

“It’s my fault,” Noct said, still crying, “it’s my fault that you were dragged into this. I didn’t, I didn’t want to leave without you, and I dragged you into it, and it’s my fault, Prompt.”

Noct kept repeating that, too many times. Prompto still couldn’t tell what he was talking about, but he remembered a few times in which he was hurt because of the blue-eyed man. Even so, he didn’t blame the other. He couldn’t find it in himself to do so, so he didn’t. He still muted out the rest of the rant, though, because what was the purpose of hearing it?

It was nice. Weirdly so. It wasn’t like when Ardyn touched Prompto and he would flinch and then it would be even worse for him, no. It felt safe, like he was wanted there and like he belonged. But he wasn’t, because he didn’t remember a thing in which he felt happy surrounded by people, or alone, for that matter.

What was happiness, anyway? Was that was he needed to do? Find happiness?

He’d been repeated the same thing by the chancellor’s people every minute he spent chained.

_“Your only purpose in life is to serve the Emperor.”_

Of course, he never acknowledged the Emperor as his ruler. He never did, because he didn’t want anyone like him ordering him around.

He knew that there had to be at least a single time in which he felt happy. Or at least, content. If he hadn’t, then he wouldn’t have stayed with Noct, right? That meant that the dark haired man could know a way for him to reestablish his memories. He wanted to remember, because he was sure that he must’ve held cheerful times, Ardyn had told him so. Ardyn had told him how he used to be on such high spirits, and he intended to get to that. Because, that was the purpose, right? That was what he was meant to do; otherwise, he would be dead already, another corpse on the floor.

He never quite gave up on his hopes, not even when Ardyn told him that he had no way to know if this was real. If the things he touched, the things he heard, and what he could see and smell were real. That maybe what he remembered wasn’t real, either, or maybe it was, because his life was “such a disaster” before the man took him in under his wing, or that was what he’d been told. And he also knew that people lied, he _knew_ , because he’d lied and he had been lied to.

And Noct was still speaking, in a broken voice, almost like a recorder, apologizing over and over again about a fate he couldn’t have prevented (and those too were Ardyn’s words, not his own, but he couldn’t tell the difference between what he thought and what he heard anymore).

He did remember, a few things.

* * *

 

_Prompto was young, because he saw his hands and they were small, so tiny. And he was sitting in a hard surface and everything hurt. A lot. And he was crying, he could tell, but there was someone with a familiar face and he felt even more scared._

_He was pleading, he was sobbing, and he didn’t want to play this game anymore because it all hurt._

_The man didn’t care, though, as he grabbed a needle and stuck it into his arm, and it burned, but his eyes closed because he was tired, and he fell asleep._

* * *

 

_He was still young, but he understood the world better._

_People were there, at all times, but they weren’t with him. They weren’t there for him. They were there because they had a job to do and their job concerned the Emperor. He knew he’d serve the Emperor when he grew up, too._

_But his mother didn’t want that._

_“Your father isn’t a good man,” she’d shaken her head, tears in her eyes. Prompto wanted to ask what was wrong, why was she crying, but his mouth couldn’t form the words. “That’s why we need to go,” she gave him a bracelet, it was soft and it felt like feathers. It was his mom’s. They were chocobo feathers, he’d been told before._

_“We’re going away from them,” she told him, “because they’re bad people.”_

_And that was the only explanation he heard._

* * *

 

_He remembered a dog. It was a dog, right?  There was a dog that wasn't his, and his short arms struggled to keep it inside the bath. The dog licked him, it felt funny. He laughed, glad that he wasn’t alone. His mom wasn’t there, why wasn’t she there? Didn’t she care about him anymore?_

_He got a bit of soap in his arms, too. And as he washed it, he saw a bracelet on his wrist, but it wasn’t the same as before. It was green. He liked green, but he wanted his other bracelet back._

* * *

 

_He was thinner, now. He’d been running every morning and every afternoon. His muscles were sore and they hurt a lot. He didn’t care. he couldn’t befriend the prince, not if he looked like that._

_And he needed to study, too. What kind of friend would he be if he failed all his classes?_

_His dinner was only a plate of lettuce. He hadn’t gone out for groceries, and his parents (did he even have parents?) weren’t home. He was alone. As always._

_The “salad” was awful. He didn’t like it._

_But he was doing it for a future friend, for the prince, so he’d eat it anyway._

* * *

 

_He met the prince. He’d been awfully awkward. And he was screaming inside, and three seconds away from panicking._

_He couldn’t break down in front of the prince, no._

_Especially when all their classmates were watching. The prince had a reputation, and he had to live up for it._

* * *

 

Prompto realized that he had been crying until he heard hushed whispers, telling him it was alright.

What was alright?

Noctis (the prince?) was leaning his head on the blonde’s shoulders, but he found that he didn’t mind the touch. It was serene, and he was okay with it. The touch was unlike Ardyn’s, and that made it a thousand times better.

“It’s okay, Prompt. It’s okay,” the prince said, but Prompto didn’t know if he was trying to reassure himself or the other. Maybe both of them at the same time. Clearly efficient.

He hastily wiped his tears with the back of his hand, being careful to not bother Noctis. Since when did he care about whether he bothered anyone or not, though? Since today? Since ever? Since he met Noctis? It didn’t matter, though. He saw Noct’s eyes, slightly red (from all the crying, he could only guess), and his face was flushed and his hair was pointing out on all directions.

“It’s okay,” he echoed in his own scratchy voice, still just the tiniest bit confused.

“It’s okay,” the prince repeated, a small smile forming in his lips, one that Prompto tried to give back but his lips just wouldn’t move the way he wanted them to and maybe it looked like he was cringing, but he didn’t really care, because Noctis was laughing (it sounded more like rapid and panicked breathing, though). “It’s all okay,” he said once more, like he didn’t believe the words he was hearing.

Prompto nodded, hoping that he could get his message across.

Still, Noct was his friend, right?

Yeah, Noctis was his friend. He was the one he’d worked so hard for, so it only made sense that they were friends. Unless he was that type of person, the one that took and took and _took_ and gave _nothing_ in return, like the people back at his hometown.

His brain stopped.

He didn’t really remember anything, but he knew. He knew that his mother was probably dead, that he wasn’t really human, that Noctis was his friend and that Ardyn was a bad person, even if he didn’t show it.

And he also remembered how it hurt. How the pain, even if it wasn’t physical, could leave him feeling dazed for days. How he would rather feel in pain if it meant that the numbness would go away, because feeling anything was better than feeling nothing at all.

He knew that Noctis understood, too, in his own way.

But the pain he’d felt? The sense of loneliness? The impression that whatever he did still wasn’t enough?

Prompto didn’t want Noct to feel that.

And he remembered himself, but younger, making a promise to the prince he had never met, about how he’d fight for him and be by his side if it meant that Noctis wouldn’t have to feel the same way he did.

He still intended to keep his promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!  
> as side comments, i want to say that this chapter didn't really make me feel content enough and i kept writing Ardyn like andry and i dunno why


	4. what's a camera.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He missed breakfast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for such a short chapter// i really haven't had time for writing, but i was like  
> "oh shit i haven't uploaded a new chapter since last month haha help me"  
> so, yeah. here it is! just a fluffy aftermath, tbh.

Ignis and Gladio returned once the prince’s tears were dry and he was as wary as he was suspicious, because he knew that Ignis must’ve been checking on them every few minutes or so to make sure they were okay and that none of them had killed the other.

Woah, Specs’s lack of faith in him surely wounded him.

Gladio still left a bag with unknown content (probably the potions they didn’t really need and some food, since Ignis had complained that he didn’t have carrots anymore, and his main purpose was to make the prince suffer) on the table, and he thankfully didn’t say a word about their puffy eyes and their stained shirts.

Noctis made a mental note to thank the man later, and not only for that, but also for staying at his side.

He guessed that people didn’t really mind being in company until said company was no longer there ( _because he pushed them off a train_ -).

Even so, Prompto still didn’t say a thing. Maybe he didn’t remember who the spectacled man was, or the tall, bulky man was intimidating (he wouldn’t blame the blonde if the latter was true, after all, Gladio  _was_  sort of unfriendly-looking).

Would it be considered rude if he just asked Prompto if he was an MT or not?

…yeah, it could be. And it would be awkward, too.

“That’s Ignis,” he said, pointing at said man who quickly understood what was happening.

“Ignis Scientia,” Specs told the blonde, who was nodding along. “But you may call me Iggy.” Noctis hid a snicker behind his hand at that, because Ignis’s own nickname coming from his mouth was something he didn’t expect to hear. Ever. The way he’d said it, sounding like he truly meant it but at the same time like he didn’t really like it. Nicknames were nicknames, though, and people were supposed to hate them anyway.

“And the other one’s Gladiolus,” the prince continued, smirking. “Or Gladio, or Gladdy, or Daddio.”

Ignis definitely smiled for a bit before he composed himself, but Noctis saw it and send a small knowing look to him. Ignis didn’t show any response at all, yet the prince knew that he had seen it.

Gladio didn’t seem to mind one bit, smirking. Though, the smirk looked threatening and Gladio might’ve as well tried to stab the blonde right then and there. Ignis sent him a glare, and the taller man tried making a peaceful smile, still failing.

Prompto seemed a bit nervous- well, he still didn’t show any sort of emotion, but Noctis could see him sweating a little. Poor guy, re-meeting the guys that had knocked him out cold the past day, one of them genuinely  _crying_  on his shoulder and then being intimidated by the most dangerous of them.

What a morning.

They sat in relatively calm silence, everyone pretty much ignoring the fact that the blonde hadn’t known their names and didn’t remember their faces. It was just hard, to see his best friend like that. Still sitting on the edge of a cold bed, his lips still in the same thin line, his eyebrows slightly furrowed and his red eyes flickering around the room. He didn’t seem like he was about to stab any of them, so he guessed that Prompto at least knew that they weren’t his enemies, and they wouldn’t hurt him.

And to think that all the moments he had spent with his best friend, just talking, laughing or playing were all gone- almost as if they had never had never happened at all. All the time in which he bonded with the blonde, who would take pictures and the prince would eat his ice cream while also chat with his friend and Ignis making sure that they didn’t get run over by a car (Gladio would occasionally be there, too, just to tease the prince).

It really made him mad.

“Perhaps we should set course for our next destination,” Ignis offered, but it was more of a demand since he started packing the prince’s shirts without waiting for a reply.

“Sure,” Noctis said anyway, grabbing his own shirts to help his friend. He just  _kind of_  threw the shirts into his bag, though, and that was deemed unacceptable by Specs, who got them out again just to properly fold them. Then, out of the blue, Ignis hushed him to go do something else as he picked a pair of socks from underneath the bed, and then he also sent Noctis a scowl. However, the prince quietly backed up so he wouldn’t be scolded at.

Oh well,  _at least_  he could say he tried.

Gladio seemed also very keen on putting away his own clothing, not needing any help. Sure, he folded his garments too even if they seemed like a five year old had done so. He scowled at the shirts as if they were his enemies. He finished in merely seconds, and it almost didn’t fit, but he forced the zipper to go up.

Prompto was watching cautiously, and Noctis wondered if he even remembered doing normal, day-to-day stuff. Maybe he should ask.

“Have you even washed your teeth yet?” Ignis asked, grimacing at the state of one of Noct’s jackets. It was practically in pieces, but he could sew the tears. Maybe.

“Uh… No?” Noctis admitted, a bit sheepish. He’d just spent a good amount of crying, how was he supposed to make time for his teeth?

Ignis glared daggers at him and continued to do so until the prince was inside the bathroom. Noct locked the door just to be sure that his friend wouldn’t poke his head in to make sure that he was brushing his teeth correctly (it happened once already, and he had shrieked- definitely not something he wanted to happen again).

He looked at his own reflection, and he could see the bags under his eyes being not as noticeable as before, but his eyes were red and he was sure that he had drooled all over himself while he had slept. Gross.

* * *

 

Prompto looked at the two men who stood at different sides of the room. It was hard not to, honestly. Something kept drawing his eyesight to them and maybe it was the fact that they were all so huge and it made him feel small. Or maybe it was the looks that Ignis, no,  _Iggy_  kept sending him. He looked worried? It was worry, right? Well, there was still a fat chance that it was anger or happiness. Maybe Iggy was about to punch him or anything. He’d learnt for Ardyn to not trust people by their facial expressions when they looked at him. And he’d learnt the bad way.

Gladdy had finished his task, and he hadn’t been appointed a new one yet. Weird. Who gave orders around here? He would’ve guessed it was Noct- but he had just been told to brush his teeth and he’d obeyed. Even so, Gladdy seemed deadly set on doing whatever he wanted.

Maybe they had free will?

Nah, that was weird. How would they be able to do what they were expected to without someone barking commands? There was probably someone else who wasn’t present at the moment, someone in a higher position.

Ignis finished folding shirts and he instead opened the door that lead to a parking lot. Gladdy followed close behind, carrying the bags and opening the trunk of a fancy car just to drop them without a care inside. Then, he leaned against said car.

Iggy must’ve noticed him watching from the window of the room, because he made a motion with his hands and it was one that Prompto remembered (Ardyn had used it several times). It meant  _come here_. He obediently stood, taking hesitant steps outside.

The sky was beautiful. The sun, however- he just knew that he didn’t really like the sun. When he blinked several times, his eyes were watery and he could see dark splotches scattered around. He was half tempted to try and grab them, but he rubbed his eyes instead. It still didn’t help. Gladdy laughed at him.

The soft breeze immediately attacked his hair and he let out a small gasp. He tried putting his blonde locks back in place with both his hands, but the air kept brushing them towards his eyes every time. Gladio laughed even harder.

“I can only think of what will happen once we have to camp,” Ignis mumbled, his stylish hair kept in place by excessive amount spent applying gel to it. Nobody made a comment about it, though.

* * *

 

Noctis eventually came out from the door again, his hair not looking as bad as before. He had probably combed it.

“Glad you finally decided to join us,” Gladdy rolled his eyes, opening the passenger’s seat before plopping down on it. “I call shotgun,” he then added, but it didn’t really matter since he had already taken the place.

Noctis would’ve complained, but this way he could actually see Prompto face-to-face without the blonde twisting his neck or something. He didn’t miss Gladio sending him a wink, either- he flipped the taller guy off, who just laughed and turned on ahead. Ignis hadn’t seen a thing for the first time, too busy getting inside the car.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Specs asked, buckling up his seatbelt.

“Nothing,” Noctis waved a hand as in a  _wait a minute_  before he dragged Prompto inside the car, who got in willingly. He fumbled with his own seatbelt, so the prince helped him with it. The blonde just nodded, and Ignis started the car.

“Everything in order?” he asked, just as he always did because now was the chance to say if someone had forgotten a sock or their shampoo inside the motel. However, no one had left anything behind (this time), so Specs pulled over the driveway.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot,” Noctis said, handing Prompto a… something. “It’s a camera,” he clarified as he tried to read the blonde’s expression. It didn’t say much, and it was hard to work with what he was given, but he could do it better than before.

“Look, you turn it on,” the prince didn’t miss Gladio winking  _again_ , ”with this button.” He pressed it, and the machine came to life. He had never really touched the other’s camera before, and it felt weird to do it now. The other Prompto (but they were still the same person, right?) would’ve killed him if a single was present on it.

“Then you just, point it at whatever you want,” and the prince would’ve taken a shot of the blonde, but now wasn’t the time. “And shoot.” He took a relatively nice photo of the sky. Prompto’s were so much better, though. Even so, he applied a filter just for fun.

Prompto blinked, “who are we shooting?”

“What?  _No_ , I mean, we’re taking a picture, not shooting anybody,” the dark-haired man tried to explain, but his mind was plagued with Prompto’s monotone voice at the prospect of shooting someone. He shuddered.

“Oh,” the blonde said. “Sorry,” he said, but he probably didn’t understand what that meant yet.

“Well, that’s how you use it,” the prince awkwardly handed the camera to Prompto, who started fiddling with it the moment his hands reached it.

The blonde experimentally took a few shots of the landscape, and even if they were sort of blurry around the edges (mostly due to the speed they were going- Ignis liked fast, but he wasn’t entirely reckless either), they were better than what Noctis could do. It definitely came naturally to Prompto, it seemed. He didn’t look like he wanted to let go of it yet, either.

Ignis was watching them from the rear mirror, occasionally sharing glances with Gladio with the way they were acting, smiling just a little.

“Where are we going?” the prince asked, leaning forwards, earning a glare from Ignis that completely said _get back to where you were young man_. He ignored it.

“I believe we should return to Tenebrae,” the advisor paused, “to see if Lady Lunafreya can do something about his memories.”

Noctis looked over at Prompto, who normally would’ve perked his head up at the mention of Luna. Instead, the blonde was still engulfed on his camera, probably not even noticing everyone else. It was a good idea, though, because if anyone could do _that_ , it was Luna.

He nodded, but Ignis’s eyes were glued to the road (thank the Astrals), so he settled with an “alright.”

“Who is Lady Lunafreya?” Prompto asked, his red eyes searching for blue ones.

The prince was somewhat, okay, he was really disappointed that Prompto didn’t remember her at all. He should’ve known, though, that Luna’s name wouldn’t be engraved inside the sharpshooter’s mind.

“She’s a childhood friend,” he quickly explained. “You’ll meet her soon, and she’ll help you.”

“Okay,” Prompto bobbed his head up and down, as if that was all he needed to understand. Maybe it was.

Noctis leaned again on his seat, getting somewhat tired. Probably because he had just poured out his entire heart earlier in the morning.

He only closed his eyes a second.

But then, he was being shaken awake and he saw a familiar mess of blonde hair. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand, yawning loudly. The sun was already going down. What the hell? He missed breakfast? He did didn’t he.

“What time is it?” Noctis got out from the car. They were parked right outside a Crow’s nest. Okay, it wasn’t better than Ignis’s cooking, but it would do.

“Uh… 2 in the afternoon?” Prompto’s answer came out as a question, even if he didn’t mean to. “Gladdy said to wake you up.”

And okay, he should really explain to Prompto those nicknames. _Gladdy_ sounded just ridiculous when he said it in his monotone voice.

He missed breakfast.

Damn it.

He walked up to the entrance of the diner, Prompto following close behind and fidgeting with his wrist, and Noctis could tell that he was nervous- it was an habit that old Prompto did.

Oh crap, he’d forgotten about that.

He shrugged off his jacket quickly (thankfully, he’d chosen to wear a long-sleeved one and it turned out that it would save him some trouble), and handed it to Prompto quickly.

The blonde looked like he didn’t know what was going on. He tried to give it back first, his head tilted to a side and his brows furrowed.

Noctis shook his head, “put it on.”

Prompto looked like he wanted to object, but he bit his tongue and kept the comment to himself. Obediently, he threw his hands through the sleeves and tried to adjust it. It was a little bit bigger than his shirt, and said sleeves covered most of his hands, and consequently, his wrist. “Thank you,” he mumbled.

And no, Noctis did _not_ blush.

He had to admit, though, the jacket looked good on Prompto. “No problem,” he waved it off.

They proceeded to sit down on the booths that Ignis and Gladio had already chosen for them, and he saw that sly smirk the latter sent him when he noticed that both men had occupied the same side, leaving him and the blonde in front.

He let Prompto have the window seat this one time, but only because Prompto still had his camera with him and wouldn’t let go (and, well, it was kinda adorable).

He ordered a burger, and choked on his drink (Ignis, the bastard, ordered four glasses of water before the prince was even there, not leaving him a choice) when Prompto just questioned aloud, “what’s a burger?” as the blonde kept snapping pictures of the restaurant and the window and even a shot of that one man at the counter.

Oh man, Prompto was about to learn one of the true beauties of the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it wasn't shown in the game, but i bet ardyn didn't feed prompto shit and it mAKES ME MAD  
> anyways, thanks for reading! love you <3


	5. guns.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He’d never liked his shield’s taste in music, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry for not updating//  
> this has been a shitty week and i ditched my homework to work on this instead  
> i really just want to curl up on my bed and die watching netflix tbh

“We’ve been driving for  _three_  hours straight,” Noctis complained. It sounded more like he was a six year old who wanted to keep watching TV, truth to be told, but Gladio didn’t call him on that, too interested on his book or novel or whatever. Besides, the view wasn’t interesting and he wasn’t tired, for once.

Old Prompto would’ve immediately backed him up, whining about how much his back hurt. Then, Gladio would tell them to shut up, and Ignis would just roll his eyes and say something like, “it hasn’t even been that long” under his breath. He really missed that.

But this Prompto, this blonde who might as well be a machine with red eyes, wasn’t like that. In fact, he seemed entertained with his camera and the sky alone. Didn’t really speak, either, and for the first time, it was Noctis who directed the conversation- and even then, sometimes the blonde didn’t bother giving an answer. It was probably because he didn’t know what to say, honestly.

Ignis sighed. “We could make a stop in the next parking lot.”

Noctis mentally cheered. This didn’t happen often. It was better than staying cramped up inside a car for the rest of the day. Besides, his legs had fallen asleep and he needed to walk. He didn’t know how Gladio could do it- stay inside the Regalia without having to stretch his legs every few minutes.

It was a good opportunity for Prompto to take pictures of the landscape, too. He really enjoyed his camera, it seemed, and he was a natural at photography. He remembered that one time the blonde had been in the royal gardens, taking photos of basically every single plant in there.

Also, he would finally get the chance he had been waiting for to properly introduce Prompto and Luna. The former had only seen her on TV once or twice, and the rest he knew was common knowledge for the citizens. Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, the Oracle. Childhood friends with the Prince of Lucis. Very  _against_  the war. Actually a pretty good person and really smart.

Now, she  _knew_  about Prompto. Not everything about him either- just enough. For example, she must at least remember from all the stories that Noctis told her, Prompto’s love for photography and chocobos (there was, after all, no wrong way to love a chocobo), his kind heart and his lack of ability to stay still.

And since there hadn’t been any battles going on between the two kingdoms (surprisingly, Niflheim yet had to attack), Luna returned to her own land, convinced that she should help her people as well. Obviously, she had been welcomed with open arms and a huge party, and as much as Noctis had wanted to go, he hadn’t been able to.

A few minutes later, everyone was getting out of the car. The prince was still as impressed by the self-closing doors as he had been when he was a kid. Less work for him, he supposed. Besides, they freaked Prompto out and to see the tiniest flicker of shock on his face was worth it.

He took his time to stretch his legs, because no matter how much time he spent inside the Regalia, he would never get accustomed to the cramped space. When he had first tried to ride shotgun, Prompto had ignored him and sat down next to Ignis, stating how he technically had no authority outside the Citadel, and then proceeded to stick his tongue out to mock the prince. Ah, good memories.

“It’s a very nice view,” Ignis commented, basically encouraging the sharpshooter to take a picture.

Prompto didn’t know how to take hints, but he  _did_  know that the sky sure looked nice, so he took his camera out, focusing the lenses. Okay, memories or not, he still took some pretty awesome shots.

The blonde rubbed his eyes, and a second later, he yawned. Noctis didn’t want to be rude or anything, but he really wanted to ask if he could genuinely feel tired or if he actually needed to sleep. He was just curious. Prompto rubbed his eyes with his sleeve- wait, no, that was the prince’s sleeve actually, but eh, whatever. If Prompto didn’t want to give his jacket back, he wouldn’t take it away.

Now, ever since he was a kid and he wanted to ask something, but didn’t know how, he would glance at Ignis and hope he had an answer. After all these years, he still did the same.

Ignis looked thoughtful, but then again, he always did- even when he had no clue of what he was doing. Actually, Noctis and Gladio once made a bet on what the man always had inside his mind, the former obviously betting on how to scold the team and the shield opting for food. Prompto had joined in after a while, saying how Ignis  _obviously_  spent so much time thinking about girls. So far, no one had won. Yet. Ignis was just unpredictable.

Seemed like he didn’t know, either.

Prompto, after taking a close shot of a flower, climbed back in the car, looking very content with himself there. The Regalia didn’t have as much sentimental value for him as the prince, but maybe the blonde also felt safer inside. Well, Noctis hoped he did. The journey wasn’t over, not yet, so they wouldn’t have any reason to say goodbye to it.

Specs took this as his chance to get back going, and motioned the rest back to the car (more like, forced them to the car, but no one complained in fear of fueling his wrath).

This time, he didn’t bother checking if everyone was inside the car to speed up- everyone had already strapped on the seatbelt, but still. He was probably tired, that must be all.

They all were.

Now that he thought about it, he really should reintroduce King’s Knight to Prompto. Well, there was still a small chance that the blonde remembered the game, after all, they  _did_  spend most of their time as regular teenagers playing it everywhere they went. Also, if he got any further into the game without his friend, then they would be on different levels and it would be hard to play on the same mission.

He really missed being able to talk to Prompto about whatever he could come up with, the blonde always going on with his silly babbling.

He really missed the old Prompto.

* * *

 

Gladio turned on the radio, getting fed up with the silence. He was riding shotgun, and the shotgun’s job was to check their surroundings for danger. There was no time for a book when it was getting darker. Seriously, he really wanted to go back to his seat, but just a look through the rear mirror and watching the prince and the blonde looking through some old photos just… warmed up his heart.

The time searching for Prompto had been all about worrying and making sure Noct was okay. The prince hadn’t  _smiled_ , not the tiniest grin while they’d looked for any clue that could lead them to the blonde’s location.

Ignis had spent so much time asking if he was okay, if he needed water, if he had eaten yet- and they all knew that Noct had barely eaten more than a couple of fries when they went to the diner, and it was his favorite place in the world. Poor Iggy had just suffered through having to see his charge not taking care of himself at all.

Now that Prompto was back, Noct had finally gotten sleep. He’d eaten like a hungry behemoth. He’d actually laughed.

Gladio smirked as he heard the prince groan in frustration. He’d never liked his shield’s taste in music, after all. He turned it on a higher volume.

* * *

 

Noctis held his hand triumphantly, having found one of the [pictures](http://www.deviantart.com/users/outgoing?https://i.reddituploads.com/1d167c9c270648d3b283cff928f52ae2?fit=max&h=1536&w=1536&s=789ab0d2657e5c5fb858fff526dc45f0) he’d been looking for. Seriously, he should ask Ignis to organize them or something, but the guy would just order the photos by date, the persons on it, the background and a thousand things more, and, no thanks.

“Look, you took this one a while ago,” he showed it to Prompto, who leaned in closer, a little bit too close. He was used to Prompto ignoring personal space bubbles, though. “It looks pretty good, doesn’t it?” he asked, even if he knew the answer.

It was of him, fishing. The picture itself was flawless, and even if Noctis had slept in during that day, Prompto had somehow found an angle that didn’t make it look like he had morning hair.

“What are you doing?” Prompto frowned- and yeah, it was more noticeable than before. Maybe he was getting better at reading expressions- even if Ignis was  _way_  better than him. Suddenly, though, his father’s words echoed in his mind _. “If you compare yourself to others, you’ll never be good enough,” he’d told Noctis once, when he was still really young_.  Remembering every once in a while made him feel better.

“Fishing?” Wasn’t it obvious? “Uh, catching fish,” he explained, awkwardly mumbling nonsense.

“Oh,” Prompto seemed lost in thought, but like he understood a little bit better. “Do you like fishing?”

 _Liking_  was an understatement. “Yeah, I do,” he nodded. He really was refraining himself from saying anything else, though, because if he started speaking about his hobby then he wouldn’t shut up (according to Gladio, at least). Besides, he was sure Prompto didn’t actually know about fishing at all, or  _remembered_. Old Prompto would tease Noctis for his love of standing on a bridge that may fall on any moment just to capture animals that swim on their own pee, but Noctis would tease old Prompto about his love of giant birds with giant beaks without the ability to fly. Then, Gladio would pop in, reminding them of how much they obsessed over a cartoon that the sharpshooter had introduced him to, and they would team up and tell Gladio just how much he loved swords and how much time he spent cleaning them, making him shut up.

Now, Prompto hadn’t even known he liked fishing.

He really,  _really_  hoped Luna could fix this.

Prompto seemed like he was in his own little world without a care, just looking at the picture, but a second later, his head tilted upwards. “They’re above us,” he said, breathlessly. It must’ve been a good view, because the blonde was reaching for his camera again- a glare from Ignis told him that  _no, he should not take the camera right now_ , and his hand dropped back into his lap.

Noctis took his gaze to the sky, and yes, they were above them. Imperials. They hadn’t dealt with them in a while, it had been suspicious enough. Nothing lasts forever, apparently. “Ignis, what’s the course of action?” he asked, half-jokingly. He really wasn’t kidding, though, because he didn’t have any idea what to do. He didn’t even know if Prompto could fight. If he were to guess, though, he’d say  _yes_ \- the blonde hadn’t let go of his guns during a single second since he had been found.

Ignis seemed to analyze the situation they were in. “Perhaps we should make a strategy,” he said after a moment of silence, the imperials having trouble searching for a spot to park in. They were surrounded by nothing but trees, so it must be hard. Nobody told them to use such a huge vehicle.

The shield rolled his eyes. “We could wipe them out in a sec, strategy or not.”

Well, Gladio still thought plans weren’t necessary for this. They rarely ever plotted what they would do during a fight, anyway. They relied on their own knowledge of the others’ fighting styles, and they always fell into an easy rhythm of battle, their movements always precise and graceful (mostly on Ignis’s case, because the man fought like he was dancing). They didn’t have the element of surprise this time.

Ignis suddenly stopped the car, earning a grunt from the shield (who glared at the driver) and a small yelp from the blonde (Prompto still rarely made a sound, so for now, Noctis treasured every single one), and he was probably ready to get over with it. Noctis did too, admittedly. He made a mental note to check if they would have to stop at a convenience store or not after the fight. This day wasn’t going well, but then again, no day had gone well since the chancellor entered their lives.

They got out of the car quickly (Prompto seemed really confused, nonetheless, he mimicked the prince’s actions), none of them wanting to get the Regalia somehow involved again. They’d be damned if they were without a car in a road surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of forest. Noctis was pretty sure that there was no phone signal over there, either, so they wouldn’t be able to contact Cindy.

The blonde didn’t have a clue of what was going on as they tried to sneak on the MTs that searched for them. He seemed to be looking for something himself. He must’ve at least a general idea, though, because his gun was back on his hand and he seemed ready to shoot. Maybe it was just because of the intimidating aura that they gave off (especially Gladio, who was getting really excited at the prospect of an actual battle).

“Do we just charge in?” Noctis asked, crouching down beside a rock to see if there was any way they could slip through. He wasn’t the strategist of the group, though. That was Specs’s job.

Gladio rolled his eyes, and man, it was becoming a habit of his. “Can’t we just charge in, your Highness?” The teasing tone was back in his voice, though, so it was more of a request than anything else.

“We shouldn’t just charge in _blindly_ -“ Ignis started, but he was cut off by the prince warping towards the battlefield. Sighing, he saw as Gladio followed with a war cry, his sword already high in the air and ready to slay the MTs. He turned towards Prompto, who was standing still. “Do you need any help?” he asked, concerned. If Prompto didn’t want to fight, then he wouldn’t have to. It was simple.

The blonde shrugged, something he’d definitely learnt from the prince. Noct was a bad influence.

Before he had a chance to respond, however, Prompto took off after them with a speed that he wasn’t aware he possessed, leaving a trail of dust behind.

Ignis settled for silence, deciding to just throw daggers at whatever was in front of him. Who needs a _plan_ , anyway? _Definitely_ not the people he traveled with, of course. There was one more thing, though. “Don’t let your jacket get ruined, Noct!”

* * *

 

Prompto didn’t exactly fight the same as before.

The usual cheeriness was gone. There were no bad puns about robots nor the usual “is that a gun in your pocket” joke. He was quiet, steady, and he looked like he partially enjoyed sneaking up on them, because one moment Prompto was on the prince’s left, several feet away, and the next, he was right in front of him, shooting at another MT. He didn’t seem to have a problem with shooting them, either.

Instead of the sporadic, unpredictable fighting style of before, Prompto took cautious approaches to the enemies- he still looked for blind spots, though, and he would still shoot at the first opening he found.

His eyes were empty, calculating, and he looked like a colder version of Ignis (not that Specs was cold, but he was scary during a fight), one that was just as accurate as the latter.

It didn’t matter, though, because the rest of the team easily fell into step.

The field was just full of Gladio roaring, but Noctis tuned it out. They always had a technique, one that was mostly to protect him. Prompto would always stick closer to him, making sure to help him take out the enemies that got the closest. Ignis would focus on the area surrounding them, watching out for any other that would be able to harm the prince. Gladio, however, moved around the place like it was his, mostly centering on the strongest enemies. Prompto remembered it, or at least his body did (he knew that sometimes in the morning he would automatically check for Prompto, even if he was still asleep, so he guessed that it was like a body reaction), because a minute into the battle, they all worked together like nothing had happened.

When a beast was suddenly released, Gladio took it upon himself to weaken it as the rest focused on staying alive and mostly on guarding his back (funny how the roles sometimes reversed), and Noctis shouted “Prompto!”, not really knowing if the blonde would know what to do.

It didn’t matter, though, because Prompto slowly raised his pistol, and with a single shot, the thing (even Ignis had no idea what it was) was dead on the floor. The blonde collapsed too, seemingly tired. He’d always been on the weaker side, anyway, but his smaller frame always allowed him to sneak unnoticed and to be significantly faster than Gladio. Noctis plopped down beside him, Ignis and Gladio behind them even if they didn’t sit on the floor as well.

Then Noctis held out his hand, turning his gaze towards his blonde friend, and they fistbumped.

He broke out in a smile.

He’d really missed all of this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm trying to develop relationships okay  
> they'll have plenty of time to meet luna later.  
> i'm just really trying to make them a synchronized family just let me do it please  
> meanwhile, the plot remains unknown because, if you haven't noticed, i'm pretty much just winging this.  
> btw i also learned how to add links yay for me


	6. about train stations.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aka, that one chapter in which Noctis can't help but worry as much as Ignis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am not dead okay.  
> i am just in the middle of tests and art projects and just kill m e. please.  
> anyway, this one chapter was mostly set-up for some stuff and i'm like, 97% sure that lady lunafreya will appear next chapter. whenever it comes out.  
> 

When Noctis pushed himself to his feet again, he was surprised to see that Prompto hadn’t done the same. After all, the sharpshooter had seemed almost like he was the prince’s mirror, mimicking most of his actions so that they could get the result he wanted. He turned to look to his friend, who was staring at the ground, hard. Maybe he should’ve made a joke about whether he was trying to woo the rocks or what, but it didn’t feel like it was the correct time.

Instead, he stood by his side and offered a hand, leaving it awkwardly hanging in the air and ignored Gladio’s snickers. Screw him and his damn muscles.

(Absentmindedly, he remembered the first time Prompto saw Gladio from afar, and seemed really terrified of the guy, calling him Mr. Badass Muscles, and saying that the really large man had patented the  _Mess-with-me-and-you’ll-beg-for-death_  look.)

Sensing movement, Prompto turned his gaze from the dirt towards the prince, and for a moment, nothing happened. Then, almost as if he was in a trance, the blonde slowly raised his right hand, grasping the other’s tightly.

The prince barely made an effort to pull his friend up, and he was half-awed and half-concerned. It was mostly worry, though, because he knew he was strong and all, but shouldn’t Prompto weigh a little bit more? He’d have to ask Ignis later. “So,” he started, albeit a bit hesitant. “What now?”

“Is everyone okay?” Ignis interrupted whatever the prince was going to say, because well, health comes first and he was not going to travel with half dead people. “No injuries?”

“Not even a scratch,” Gladio bragged, his sword disappearing in dust. Specs seemed to scrutinize the shield, but it was true. He didn’t have a single scratch. And  _that_  was a real shocker, because out of everyone, it was usually him who ended up the worst.

Noctis made a small mental review of himself, and his  _everywhere_  ached (as always), but he didn’t seem to be bleeding out or hallucinating and he wasn’t going deadly pale either, so he guessed he was alright. “I’m fine,” he shrugged, and Specs nodded, knowing the prince would’ve said something if he wasn’t feeling okay.

Ignis waited for Prompto to at least give a sign of life, but he was reaching for his camera again (somehow, it had never stopped working or broken, even if Prompto took it with him everywhere). Knowing it was basically  _impossible_  to take the blonde’s attention away from his favorite object in the world without physical contact (Prompto could hear, but he wouldn’t listen to anyone but Noct), Ignis simply rested a gloved hand on the blonde’s shoulder and used the other to take the camera away. “Prompto,” he called out, not really daring to scold the guy.

It was a bad idea, though, because as soon as his hand came in contact with Prompto’s shoulder, the latter flinched, almost dropping his camera in the process but managed to catch it right in time, and he took a step behind, his eyes suddenly cautious of his surroundings.

It was all silent, because as much as Noctis wanted to ask, there was evidently fear in his best friend’s eyes and he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt if it was him who fueled the feeling. He shared a glance with Gladio, and they both nodded. Yeah, Ignis was dealing with this. He was the only one who didn’t look intimidating (well, people tended to prefer Prompto because of his easy smiles and short stature, and then Ignis, because of his calming looks, next was Noctis, who  _did_  look like he would kill someone if he didn’t get his afternoon nap and lastly, Gladio, whose permanent scowl was intimidating enough as it was, not to mention his sword and his height).

Ignis saw the silent agreement, and sighed. Then, in his best soothing voice (the one he sometimes used with Noct as a kid, when the small prince was scared of something or had a bad dream), he asked, “are you hurt?”

Prompto seemed to try to form words; his mouth open yet no sentences came out. “Yes,” he finally said, but it was almost like an afterthought.

“Can I take a look?” If it had been anyone else in this situation, Ignis would’ve normally threatened them to let him look at whatever place they were bleeding from. Noct would surely make a fuss if he did something like that to Prompto, though. He’d rather not deal with Noct.

The blonde hadn’t really thought twice before he nodded, but he seemed reluctant to take off his jacket. No one even considered it the prince’s anymore. It was Prompto’s somewhat expensive jacket now. In the end, he just lowered the coat, enough to reveal a small yet somewhat profound gash on his left shoulder, complete with a deep red bruise.

Following his instinct, Ignis sharply turned his head to glare daggers at Gladio, who looked just about ready to make a comment. The latter instantly snapped his mouth shut, facing the other way.

Maybe sometime later Noct would have a chance to ask just  _how_  Prompto got something like that and didn’t scream or anything, but that’d probably be insensitive from him? He sure as hell didn’t know. Ignis would literally chop his head off with a kitchen knife if he said something rude. Specs didn’t spend almost his whole life teaching him manners for nothing.

It bothered him more than it probably should, though. Prompto had just gotten  _slashed_  through and he hadn’t even noticed.

He really needed to step up on his game.

Like, a lot.

And he needed to watch for Prompto’s back in battle, too. Sure, he had seen a couple more than the usual MTs ganging up on the blonde, but he didn’t think they had been that strong. It was just that Prompto got closer to enemies than he should, for some reason.

(Well, he knew. Prompto used his glasses from time to time when they studied on his apartment. One day, he stopped wearing them and said he’d gotten contacts. Maybe he’d lost them? It was the only reason that didn’t somehow involve divine powers.)

Said enemies might’ve just caught him unguarded, right? Well, Prompto sometimes forgot to watch over himself. And by that he meant most of the time. It was mostly because he didn’t start training since he basically learned to walk like the others. What the heck, Gladio probably started while he was still a babbling toddler.

(On the other side, a mental image of a small Gladiolus on diapers swinging around a plastic, colorful and glittery sword bigger than himself was slowly forming and it eased off some of his worries.)

Then Gladio and Ignis left for the Regalia, leaving him alone with Prompto.

No one said a word.

And sure, he panicked a little when Ignis just brought with him whatever that liquid was (“It’s to make sure his injury won’t get infected, Noct.”), almost flinching when the gooey fluid came in contact with the blonde’s skin.

Prompto hissed and flinched too, and the prince would’ve thought it had been a snake if he hadn’t seen the former’s expression as he did so. So maybe it was a bit deeper than he though.

It almost made Noct flinch a little himself.

Then Ignis brought bandages from somewhere (to be honest, he didn’t even see where he’d taken them from, but okay, whatever), and when it came to wrapping it up, Prompto absolutely refused to take his clothes off.

That was where Gladio popped in. “We can always cut through it,” he grinned, holding up a pair of scissors that must’ve been on the first aid kit (Noct felt a little bit of pride. So  _that_  was what they were for- or well, maybe not only that but it must be the most important reason?).

Prompto’s face went incredibly pale.

Ignis took a deep breath. “Don’t intimidate him, Gladio.”

The large man shrugged, letting the scissors back to where they belonged, but he seemed to think twice about it as he grabbed them back. “We can just cut his shirt,” he offered, looking at Prompto. “Your jacket will be fine,” he snickered.

The sharpshooter then realized that they were mostly waiting for his consent to rip through his clothe, but once he did, he only nodded. He seemed mostly concerned about the jacket rather than anything else. Gladio had no mercy on the poor shirt.

No one made a comment on several fading bruises on Prompto’s body, either. On the other hand, Noctis did  _not_  stare, okay? He did  _not_. Just quit it smirking, Gladio.

Ignis was done in a moment, mostly since the blonde refrained himself from stirring. At least he cooperated, unlike two other people he traveled with.

As soon as he had a chance, he placed his jacket back in place, and they made their way to the Regalia, the silence filled by Ignis’s empty chatter about a new recipe, and they didn’t really comment on the blonde’s lack of excitement when his camera was handed back to him.

* * *

  
  
They arrived at the train stop.

It was an ordinary place (for the most part), people came and went easily. Everyone had something to do and a place to be. It looked like no one ever took a break, honestly. There was nothing special to it, nothing that could make you easily tell that it was way different from the rest even if they all looked alike.

Noctis’s trembling hands balled into fists. He was frustrated and guilty and he was shaken off by how normal everyone there acted.

He looked behind at Ignis, who nodded at him, and he knew that if he couldn’t take it, they could always go through the larger route. He hoped Prompto didn’t remember this, for his own sake.

This was it. The train stop.

And unmoving, the same wagons sat, waiting for their next ride.

It was the place where he’d make one of his own nightmares come to life. The place where time had actually stirred to a halt as the prince chased his best friend away. The place where he’d been tricked by the enemy, the place where he’d pushed Prompto off.

He turned around once more, just to see how the blonde was doing.

Prompto looked worse than he’d ever seen him, and Noct had seen him during times where they’d only slept for six hours in three days to study. His face was pale, paler than a paper sheet. His mouth was tightened into a thin line, and his eyes were unfocused even if they moved to take a small glance everywhere. He was shaking, too, and he was tugging down the sleeves in his (Noct’s) black jacket even further away, and he looked like he didn’t even have hands at all. His breathing was uneven, but he looked like he was trying to get in as much air as possible. Okay, he knew what had happened there, or at least had an idea, and it wasn’t helping at all.

Noctis really,  _really_  wanted to hug everything out of his friend, but he didn’t know if he could. As far as he knew, all a hug would do was set off the ticking bomb that the blonde was at the moment. Truth be told, Noct didn’t want to ever go inside a train again in his life, but this was something he needed to do. For Prompto.

The prince knew how much sentimental value this place now had and none of it was related to positive emotions. It was mostly composed by shock, betrayal, confusion, anger and guilt, and those were too much feelings to handle at once.

And believe him, he wanted to go to his apartment back in Insomnia and wake up with the smell of breakfast and go to his living room only to see a passed out Prompto on the couch with his phone still in hand and Ignis at the kitchen, ready to serve two plates instead of the usual single one. Then he’d find a new, interesting and funny way to wake up the blonde, his ideas usually involving food or toothbrushes, and they’d both laugh and then proceed to roughhouse over the last pancake, because that was what they always did. Then they’d end up on the floor, and lie there until either Ignis complained or they managed to convince Specs to do some more pastries because most of them had ended on the ceiling and walls.

Prompto stared at him, but there were no emotions in those orbs that Noctis could pinpoint. Besides, they were all standing still in the middle of the rush hour.

And, he could say so much things.

It could be something sincere like,  _this place holds so much unpleasant memories for both of us, so how about we make some new ones to keep the others out?_

Maybe even,  _I know you don’t like this place, I don’t like it either, but it’s the fastest way to Tenebrae and we need to go there for you._

He also toyed with the thought of apologizing again and again until Prompto forgot what he was saying sorry for (not his greatest idea, but still).

Obviously, as the good speaker he was, he blurted out, “your hair’s soft.” And then panicked, because holy  _crap_  did he just say that aloud he sounded like a total creep. He was searching for words, trying to place them in an order to make it seem like his last comment was totally intentional and not creepy at all.

Prompto blinked repeatedly, looking like he thought that he’d missed a huge chunk of an important conversation, and he was about to say something until Ignis cut him off.

“Noct, perhaps you should go buy the tickets,” Specs told him, and there was a look of pure, unadulterated deadpan on his face, but he was still expectant.

“Uh, yeah, I should, I’ll go do that,” the prince rambled, basically scurrying out of Prompto’s judging eyes (they weren’t judging him, he knew, but to him, it felt like they were) and Gladio’s roaring laughter.

He wasn’t a smooth talker, alright.

* * *

 

Ignis sighed as soon as the prince was out of their view, shaking his head. Then he glared at Gladio’s still crackling form, who immediately shut up.

“You gotta admit that was funny,” the taller man smirked. “He flirts as good as he draws.”

“Gladio, don’t mock him. He’s already bad enough at it as it is.”

Prompto snuck his way closer, tilting his head in an  _I-don’t-understand-a-thing-you-say_  way. “What are you talking about?” The way the words that came from his mouth was still weird in a sense, each word being carefully chosen. His voice was slowly getting flicks of emotion, though, which was good progress.

“How bad Noct has it for you,” Gladio snickered. It felt like teaching a kid swear words. Not that he’d ever taught a kid swear words. Nah, he was 98% sure that it wasn’t him who showed the young prince how to say fuck.  _Yeah_ , he could almost  _see_  Ignis’s Disappointed Mom Stare™ boring holes through his mind.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that it would be greatly appreciated if Gladio shut up right now,” Ignis intervened before things escalated further. He’d at least keep the prince’s dignity intact if he could.

“Why?”

To Ignis, it seemed like Prompto was in that one phase just as if he were a child, in which kids start to question why anything and everything happens. “You’ll… understand later,” the man pushed his glasses further up, then leaned closer to Gladio.

“If Noct hasn’t acted on his feelings yet, then there’s a reason,” Ignis harshly whispered, making sure the blonde didn’t suspect anything. Incredibly enough, Prompto was still observant and aware of his surroundings, but he guessed that it had something to do with his personality in general and not something he had learned to do.

Gladio shrugged, then walked towards the train, Noct already waiting there.

* * *

 

 

Noctis waited for Ignis to get on the train first (because apparently, if there was danger, he’d be the fastest to see it- even if it wasn’t true, because Prompto had an instinct for this kind of stuff), and followed behind as he bounced the steps, eager to just get over with it. Gladio ushered the blonde to get on the train as well, who was hesitant to put a foot inside but did it nonetheless, and the former was soon inside too.

When they sat down, Prompto’s first option was to sit by his side, instead of choosing the other window seat (taken by Ignis, who would appreciate the view since Gladio had already taken out his book, an action that basically yelled _I don’t want to be here right now so ignore my presence until I finish this chapter_ ).

Noctis felt like he should’ve really said something as he looked at his best friend’s frowning face.

As in, actually talking and apologizing for everything he’d done. Yet, he couldn’t bring himself to do so.

The prince didn’t know for sure if what Prompto felt was only his instinct, or if he could recall the events that lead to him falling off. He hoped it was the former rather than the latter.

Prompto hadn’t even wanted to see the scenery.

(He _knew_ his fear of everything freezing and Ardyn suddenly being there was totally irrational, but he couldn’t help feeling like it would all happen once more because he’d always had good luck.)

So, it was only natural that he fell asleep leaning against the window, Prompto fidgeting with his jacket by his side, and the prince should really buy a new wristband.

Gladio didn’t even bother to scold him or anything as Noct went out like a light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just headcanon that whenever prompto can, he doesn't show injuries to the team because he doesn't want to be a burden? and like, i think it's a valid headcanon so i wanted to share it but also work on noctis's overall feelings because prompto is like, half-machine right now so his own emotions are scarce??  
> anyway, thanks for sticking with me! i love you so much, you strange internet people.


	7. m'lady.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do you must jog?” Ignis asked, slightly exasperated, subtly glaring at people who took too much time staring at them instead of going through their lives.
> 
> “I wasn’t jogging,” the prince defended himself. “It’s fast-walking,” he felt the weird urge to defend himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess wHO MEETS LADY LUNAFREYA? (almost at the end of the chapter, but still)  
> i have an undying respect for the lady and she just screams she's the "i act all polite but then i get home and woo feet on the table" y'know. well, she just looks like that to me. let me dream. i still refuse to just call her luna or something. nah, she's lady lunafreya to me. bc she's awesome. and badass, so badass.  
> also i should be doing math

Ignis was a hero.

Maybe he didn’t exactly have the ability to fly or laser eyes or super speed. Maybe he didn’t dress in bright red and blue and wore a cape. Maybe he wasn’t extremely tall or thin or had the best sight. But heroes these days came in all shapes and forms and Ignis was just one of them, there was no doubt about it.

Noctis had been really young when he’d realized that Ignis was just on a whole different level. When Noct had been learning how to multiply and divide, Ignis had learnt battle techniques from the best tacticians that the city had to offer. His young brain had eventually chalked it up to a very simple explanation:  Ignis was a hero undercover. A hero in disguise who didn’t need to hear people calling his name or his picture to be out in the papers or get the key to a city. He was just like that, a man who took pride in aiding the young prince.

He’d even come up with cool superhero aliases and drawn a stupid outfit for his friend to wear. Obviously, he didn’t quite manage to convince the tailor to do the disguise, but that was okay- no need to embarrass himself.

And even more than ten years later, if you asked Noctis, he’d shrug it off and say “Specs’s still a hero.”

Because it was the truth.

Ignis always knew what to do- and even in those rare times when he didn’t, he still kept calm and guided Noct through the day. He knew how to bake and cook and take care of people, never asking a thing in return for all he’d done. He didn’t know himself just how much he’d helped Noct- as far as Ignis knew, he’d shown the prince a map, but for said prince, he’d pointed all of the possible routes and every advantage and disadvantage in each of them.

Ignis had always believed in him, even when the young prince didn’t believe in himself.

He’d always had his back, and he was eternally grateful.

Then, when they’d been at the train, they’d sat around and played poker. It was the only thing to do to pass the time, and Gladio had luckily brought his deck of cards with him. It had been a hassle to show Prompto how to play, but he learnt the basics- no one would teach him how to cheat anyway. However, the tallest man of the group had ditched them to get some sleep (none of them said a word, because they knew how the shield was when he didn’t get at least six hours a day).

Ignis had sent him a sly look, the son of a bitch, and then walked away, putting up “make sure we have enough curatives” as an excuse.

Noctis didn’t even have  _time_  to notice that his advisor was no longer sitting with them until he was faced with an empty chair. He’d been less than a second away from chasing after him, but he wasn’t going to cause a scene (not like last time).

Prompto sat on his side, really close (the type of close in which you couldn’t decide if it was pleasant or awful) and the raven haired man silently cursed the cramped seats of the train. The blonde wasn’t doing a thing, just practicing a magic trick that Ignis had tried (and failed) to teach him. Prompto’s hands were putting a lot of effort, though, so he’d probably master it in a while.

The prince also silently thanked the Astrals for the blonde’s obliviousness of the awkwardness lingering in the air. Without it, they would’ve probably scrambled to opposites of the train.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, except for the occasional curse coming from Prompto’s mouth as he unsuccessfully tried to do the magic trick.

(It had been mostly Noct’s fault that Prompto learnt – _again_ \- how to say fuck, but the blame also fell on Gladio’s sailor mouth.)

(His view on Ignis was still the same.)

* * *

 

Prompto was enthralled by the view of Tenebrae in the distance. “It’s so  _green_ ,” he quietly commented as if he couldn’t even believe it, his mouth slightly gaping.

“Yeah,” Noctis agreed, because even if he had a good argument against it, he would never use it.

Fields of colorful flowers decorated the grounds, splotches of  _yellow_  and  _red_  and  _blue_ , and they were  _everywhere_. It looked like a free-style canvas, as if the artist had tried out every single color a palette had to offer and painted an image of the way they saw everyone else, not caring about imperfections and thinking that all people were worth paying attention and listening to. As if the artist had gone through painting all they’d felt in their life in just a picture, and the work of art would be the living-proof that what people thought, what people felt couldn’t just be  _drawn_ , it had to be  _expressed_  through their representation of everything.

Some plants were big, some were large, some were small and some were thin, and the prince couldn’t help but think of them all as beautiful- it was the truth, they were.

The colors blended in with the bright green, the vibrant sky blue and the shade of pale, almost  _white_ , smoke that formed the clouds. The sun shone with pride, not a single shadow could ruin the picture, and none would.

It was a masterpiece, and maybe it was the first and only time Noctis didn’t want to fall asleep during a ride.

And then he saw them, a specific shade of blue that he’d thought he’d only see in his dreams.  _Sylleblossoms_ , his mind whispered to him as he recalled the last time he’d been so close to one.

He looked back to Prompto, who was still staring at the sight before them with intense curiosity and admiration, and all that Noct could think of was how he was just lucky of being the one who Prompto shared this moment with.

* * *

 

“We’re wearing disguises,” Ignis explained, because even if the war seemed to have momentarily stopped, as far as he knew there were still MTs in Tenebrae. He also knew that the prince wouldn’t want to stay behind, so this was as good as it would get. He started pulling a pile of clothes on Noct’s temporal train bed.

“We’re also dying your hair pink,” Gladio called out from behind him, startling the prince. Prompto jumped a little, but seemed fine.

Noctis huffed. “What about yours? Is it gonna be  _red_?”

“ _Blood_  red,” the shield replied. “It’ll be better than yours.”

“Well, mine is going to be a  _badass_  pink,” the prince retorted.

“No one is dying their hair,” Ignis interrupted before Gladio could come up with something else.

“We can’t  _dye_  our hair but we have to wear  _this_?” Noct held a leather jacket in his arms, which looked like it had come straight from a biker gang. He didn’t even bother to look offended.

“Well, I’m  _sure_  I’ve seen a badass pink spray can around somewhere,” the advisor’s voice was laced with sarcasm.

Noctis snorted- he’d never heard Ignis say  _badass_  before. The man refused to swear. “Contacts?” he suggested.

Ignis held up several boxes, shoving them into the bed as well. “Pick one.” And he didn’t need to be told twice, Gladio was the first to rush forward and take the most obnoxious red ones.

“What?” the large man shrugged. “It’ll match my hair.”

Noct rolled his eyes, but his hands still grasped the pinkest ones. “Imma look  _amazing_ ,” he said, already opening the box as he tried to not laugh.

“Why do I even bother with you,” Ignis sighed, rubbing his temple.

“Well, you  _bought_  them,” Noctis replied smugly, “didn’t you?”

* * *

 

Noctis wasn’t allowed to wear pink contacts, or have pink hair. He settled with red ones, though, and a bright blonde wig.

(“The pink would’ve made me look fancier,” he’d mumbled as he tried on wig after wig.)

Gladio didn’t end up all red, but he’d turned around and suddenly his eyes were gray and no one made a comment.

Prompto chose the gold contacts and brown extensions because he did not want to get any closer to the bad-smelling hair dye. Even the advisor had scrunched up his nose when the smell greeted him.

Ignis ended up with blue ones, because they were the only contacts that the prince and Gladio hadn’t used yet.

* * *

 

It was finally happening.

He was going to see his childhood friend (in this damned clothes, but whatever- he was happy), meet up somewhere just for the sake of seeing each other and then he’d properly introduce Prompto. Not necessarily in that order, but he’d see.

“Noct, wait up,” Ignis sounded like one of those parents scolding their children. Except, a lot less understanding and a lot more tired. It fit the situation like puzzle pieces. A person or two (and an MT, but the prince didn’t quite see it) stopped due to his tone, but then again, the city was full of people and maybe they weren’t actually curious about them.

And  _nope_ , the prince wasn’t fast-walking. He  _wasn’t_. Everyone else was just going on slow motion. It was like a movie focused on him and only him. Or maybe focused on everyone else except him? He definitely didn’t watch enough action movies to know that. Prompto was an anime guy, and they’d watched animes. Mostly. There was the occasional romcom just for the laughs (okay, he liked them. He just wouldn’t tell Gladio).

He stirred to a stop, because  _whatever_ , letting the other two catch up with him. Gladio didn’t count because his longer legs allowed him to travel distances faster, therefore, he was at the prince’s side without making an effort. Damn him.

Prompto was already breathing heavily. Poor guy. Wasn’t he a runner, though? Maybe being inside the restricted space of the Regalia had done him bad. The prince briefly considered getting up earlier to go running with Prompto, but then again, Ignis might not think he’s the actual him and hit him with a frying pan or something.

“Do you  _must_  jog?” Ignis asked, slightly exasperated, subtly glaring at people who took too much time staring at them instead of going through their lives.

“I wasn’t  _jogging_ ,” the prince defended himself. “It’s fast-walking,” he felt the weird urge to defend himself.

“There’s a clear difference between the two,” the man stated. “And I know for sure that  _this_  is jogging.” The one that’d be able to tell the most would be either Prompto or Gladio, the former being a runner, the latter being his coach (sort of) and all.

Noctis shrugged, his mind not coming up with a valid argument. No one could win in a verbal war against Ignis, either way, so why bother?

Prompto (who somehow still hadn’t found in himself the will to let go of the prince’s jacket, and while the prince wanted it back, it still looked better on the blonde) started walking by his side, and for the mere purpose of keeping the sharpshooter on his sight, Noctis slowed his pace. People stopped looking at them like they were weird, thankfully.

Said sharpshooter looked mildly thankful, his mouth still trying to take large breaths and his eyes focused on the floor.

Behind him, Ignis sighed. “If I had known that all it takes for the prince to slow down is Prompto, I would’ve said something earlier.”

Gladio snickered.

* * *

 

Prompto had been standing before him a second ago, but now he wasn’t and Ignis was  _alarmed_.

The crowds were huge and a lot of people there had brown or blonde hair or both colors. He thought he’d seen the guy again, but it had turned out to be a woman with short hair.

He’d even thought about not bringing it up at all, but it was actually Gladio who did.

“Where’s the kid?” he asked.

No one answered

Noctis immediately took off on a run to find his friend, and the other two followed with tired feet, dodging innocent people who just didn’t want to clash with a 6'3" tall man. Some of them just looked downright terrified.

Eventually Prompto was found taking a picture, and everyone was allowed to take a break.

Noctis grasped the blonde’s hand, saying that he wouldn’t get lost this way as an excuse. Obviously, no one said a word, but Gladio did smirk and nudge Ignis with his elbow.

* * *

 

An MT guard leaned forward, seemingly interested in the attires that the group wore. It ( _it’s alive,_ Noct’s mind reminded him,  _and it’s a person like you_ ), seemed to  _judge_  them. It left after a minute or so, leaving them to fast-walk away from it.

“See,” Noctis whispered harshly. “Your taste in clothes is  _worse_  than mine.”

“I’ll have you know that  _I_  picked your attire when you were a child,” Ignis curtly replied.

“Please tell me you dressed him up in pink,” Gladio laughed at the prince’s crestfallen expression.

Ignis merely smiled.

* * *

 

And no, it wasn’t that the prince wasn’t exactly  _beaming_  at the prospect of seeing Luna again, because he was.

They were standing behind a door, the nice lady who’d shown them how to get there turning away and going somewhere else, Noct’s hands in his pockets and neither of them were making a move. Ignis and Gladiolus stood by their prince, though the former certainly looked a lot more worried than the other did.

Prompto was by the raven-haired’s side, his eyes still scanning the hallways as if someone from the several portraits decorating them would jump out of the frame and try to hurt him. Overall, he didn’t seem as worked up, but that was probably because he was always confused and bewildered and it had just gotten to a point where seeing him slightly panicky was basically normal.

To be fair, the prince had never actually thought of the possibility of bringing his red-eyed best friend to his childhood friend (who also was an Oracle) just so that Luna could try to bring his memories back. More like, if you told the prince a lustrum ago that he’d be stuck in this situation, he would’ve immediately called Ignis, mildly offended, saying that a stranger had claimed to know what would happen five years from then on and that said stranger was absolutely crazy. No one could really blame him, though. No one could’ve foreseen this.

He was definitely thrilled to see Luna, obviously, but he wasn’t as eager to know if Prompto’s memories could even  _be_  restored, plus whatever Ardyn had done to him.

(They’d  _tried_  –an obvious emphasis on  _tried_ \- to know, but there was only so much that Ignis could tell. They’d also  _tried_  to force Prompto to a doctor, someone who genuinely knew what they were doing, but the blonde had absolutely refused to be poked by someone else, and had trashed and flailed around trying to get Gladio to let go of him- and once the taller man did so, Prompto had hid behind Noctis. Ignis declared the mission a failure and they moved on. At least they learnt that Prompto did not take to unknown people so well.)

It was also hard to know anything about the blonde’s injuries, because of so many reasons. Mainly because it wasn’t like Prompto would just strip off his clothes in front of an audience of three, but because when they’d first seen him, his arms had been covered by bruises, cuts and scratches. And now that the blonde had gotten a new jacket, a long sleeved one that also kinda smelled like Noct, he had no intention of taking it off anytime soon.

And Luna must know the prince so well, because she didn’t rush to greet them when she arrived. She gave Noct a chance, a chance to back off if that was what they decided to do or to go through the doors if that was what they thought was better. She gave him time to think. She gave him her support no matter what he chose.

If asked, the prince would never be able to honestly answer why Luna chose to have him as her friend and why they kept in touch even after he visited Tenebrae for the first time.

He was sure that he wouldn’t even dare to look at someone their way if they’d caused his kingdom to fall.

How was Luna even real? Maybe she was an Astral in disguise.

He shook the images out of his mind. He was stalling, so now it was time that they finally enter the room. The prince never meant to make Luna wait, anyway.

Noctis took a step forward, his feet slightly wobbly, but who could blame him? He pushed the giant doors open, and the sight of a beautiful room greeted him.

The walls were colored a really pale beige, paintings in black and white adorning them. The candlelights were red, and so were the couches. There was a massive window in front of him, one that allowed them to see the city underneath them. And to be honest, it made him feel stronger than he was, to see everyone go on with their daily routines. He could change the entire way they operated. He could be the one who made their lives better or worse. In the end, it all fell to his hands.

With his friends by his side, he walked inside, and he saw his childhood friend on a couch, reading something.

As soon as she saw Noctis, though, she left her book on a small coffee table, “Noctis!” she gasped, delicately moving over to hug him. His arms engulfed her form, and he didn’t even notice his friends entering or the door closing with a soft clic.

He _finally_ had a chance to properly introduce her.

Luna, who was an Oracle, who had sacrificed all she had for him- even if he gave nothing in return. Luna, who had actually talked to him about everything and anything, going from silly stuff that happened (like an MT tripping, the way she just told the story was enough to get a laugh out of him), over to political debates (without making it seem boring). Luna, who actually listened (more like read) to what he had to say, who didn’t make him feel any less from what he was and stayed a constant during a decade or so.

And now his best friends, the people he trusted his life with, were finally meeting her under acceptable circumstances.

He let go of her yet maintained a comfortable distance between the two, and listened closer because she was like the older sister he never had and it would be like family meeting family.

“That’s Ignis,” he said, nodding at said man. His advisor politely offered his hand, and Luna firmly took it, grasping it with both of hers.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” she smiled.

“Likewise,” Ignis slowly smiled back. And that was it. They probably were already friends. Ignis had tons of blackmail on him (damn him) and Luna had a knack for whatever that could make her laugh.

“Gladiolus,” Noct moved on before they started talking about him.

“You can just call me Gladio,” the taller man winked.

Luna giggled. “Alright, Gladio.” Then her eyes fell on someone else, and she took her hands away from Ignis’s as she turned around. “Prompto?” she gently asked, but then again, everything she did was done gently, and it was pretty much useless to mention the adjective at this point. Noctis knew how actually tomboy she could be at times, though.

Prompto looked torn between going out the window or running away through the doors he’d come through. It was a three-story drop, so Noct hoped it wasn’t the former. Eventually, his now gold-colored eyes (on his behalf, they looked good on him) found Luna’s and he seemed put at ease by her overall calmness and relaxing aura that she seemed to give off at all times.

It wasn’t a surprise when she said Prompto’s name, because sometimes Prompto was all that Noctis talked about, but it was a different case when she also circled her arms around him, not so abruptly as to scare him but not so slow as to give him a chance to back away.

And the blonde looked calm, not exactly peaceful- yet there was no trace of his usual discomfort towards strangers.

“Thank you,” she whispered in his ear, and Prompto nodded, because while he didn’t know what that small show of gratitude was for, he had a vague idea.

Noctis hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling from ear to ear until his cheeks hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> noct is just so proud okay  
> btw, this is so full of headcanons. i'm sorry.  
> i hope you liked it!  
> also, that one bee that wears glasses on the bee movie is a lot like ignis. well i think he is? they just look alike i guess. i never watched it except for the memes


	8. flower crowns.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower crowns had been important in her childhood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm so sorry that this was so late omg but we just finished our exam week  
> and it's returning like in 10 days??? like wow, does it ever just die.  
> anyway i also got breath of the wild and i am. just. it's a beautiful game okay? also i killed a horse because i wanted to see if it would give me any items and i killed it. but like, its corpse just stayed there and i freaked out. still, i have no idea what to do next in the game because there's so many missions and stuff to do, y'know?  
> anyway back to this.

_The Oracle of Tenebrae._

Names came in all shapes and forms, letters arranged to form specific words for specific people. Her name was special, everyone knew that, and everyone knew her name- that didn’t mean everyone knew just  _who_  she was exactly or  _what_  she did. At the age of twelve, she hadn’t been really sure who she was, either.

Depending on who you were and where you lived, you’d either be happy or frustrated at the mention of her name. She prided herself on that, to be honest.

Meeting people as she traveled, listening to their prayers and healing their wounds. Seeing them all living together in harmony often reminded her of the war, but she knew that it would end soon. Avoiding MTs, helping runaways and attending to their needs. Her tasks seemed to never end, but was she complaining? Not at all. Lady Lunafreya enjoyed hearing stories and telling her own, because co-existing with others was basically part of her at this point.

She also liked to prove people wrong when they were clearly not on the right track.

_Lunafreya Nox Fleuret._

The former princess of Tenebrae, daughter of the Queen Sylva. Her people knew her by this name. Those who seeked her aid treated her with respect. They all expected the same from her, and while she wasn’t sure if she could do it, she’d try.

People often doubted when they looked at such a young child trying to gain back what they’d lost, but when she’d been fourteen, she’d reclaimed some of her nation’s autonomy back, away from Niflheim.

Then her people started to have faith. Maybe they didn't really trust brother, who found himself loyal to their conquerors, but it was all she needed for now.

However, it did take her a while to come to terms with the fact that she was no longer a princess at all.

_Luna._

Flower crowns had been important in her childhood. She’d taught the prince how to do them when Noctis had visited (even if it hadn’t truly been a visit, for the trip’s purpose had been to heal him), when she’d been twelve and knew about her duty but had no idea how to actually  _talk_  to him, because they were so different. She generally rose at the crack of dawn and he slept in until noon. She read books and paid attention when spoken to and Noct read comics and dozed off in meetings. So how was she supposed to find a theme of conversation for them when the prince didn’t call to her as most usually did? And no, she hadn’t really thought about just dropping his duties as future king onto his lap and then walk away, because she was meant to help him. When searching for a simple method to befriend the prince, it happened to her that the sylleblossoms had been about to bloom, and what was better than doing flower crowns like her brother had taught her?

Somehow, despite their differences, they’d managed to befriend each other.

Noctis showed a clear opposite of himself when talking to her. While he looked downright  _bored_  when he spoke with someone else, he’d made an effort to not have a one-sided conversation with her. He would try. She was quick to understand what he liked to talk about. Their main topics included life as royalty (in which Noct mainly complained and said things about it that just struck a chord in her), pets (because Umbra and Pryna  _loved_  him the moment they met) and books.

It was then when she realized how lonely the prince was.

How  _much_  he just needed someone to talk to, someone who’d just listen without judging. Someone who wasn’t committed in any way to him. Someone who wouldn’t be afraid of who he was to the king.

Luna also realized how genuinely easy it was to get close to him, too, because as long as you didn’t think of him as superior, you were okay in his book.

That was the problem, mostly. What if someone took advantage of Noct? He was  _really_  bad at reading people, so how would he know when someone was an enemy undercover?

Her instincts kicked in and it was then when she knew she’d taken Noctis under her wing as her little brother.

She also knew that he wouldn’t be there forever. He’d have to go to his own home, his own palace and they’d be nothing but distant acquaintances- even if they both didn’t want to.

(It was eventually decided that they’d keep in contact by small letters. It wasn’t as good as being physically there, but Luna was happy to hear from him as long as he was willing to speak.)  

When they did get separated (and she did it because of him, because she knew just what kind of king he’d grow up to be if he was raised under acceptable conditions), it wasn’t only him who shed tears, but her as well.

She set herself a goal: she’d find someone who Noctis could rely on, who would like the same things as him and could remind him of what they were here for. She’d make sure it wouldn’t be long until she fulfilled it-  she didn’t want Noct to grow as an isolated king, because even if he’d never be selfish, he couldn’t also seem inaccessible to his people when they needed him.

_Lady Lunafreya._

Pryna slipped away on a beautiful afternoon, soon turned almost a nightmare.

She’d almost have a crisis (who blamed her?) searching for her dog as Gentiana trying to reassure her that Pryna would be fine and return home safely, but she couldn’t help but feel devastated and turn everything up-side down as she continued her search.

So she prayed every night (it wasn’t even a week, but it felt like eternity to her) that Pryna would be home unscathed.

Luna had been really happy when Pryna did, in fact, return, and didn’t have time to think how exactly did she get far when she saw the name in the little bandage in her leg.

And if Pryna trusted the one who had helped her, then Luna did, too. Sometimes dogs had a better sense of judgement.

It then occurred to her that this person was the kind that would have no problem befriending the prince, and when she wrote that letter she felt as if she had accomplished a difficult feat, expressing her gratitude over taking care of Pryna and also alluring the young buy who happened to go to the same school as Noct to see if they could become friends. Distance wouldn’t be a problem anymore and Noct wouldn’t solely rely on her.

It was years before Noctis ever mentioned Prompto on his own letters (and she waited, patiently), but when he did, he wrote about what they would do every day and how they’d go to the arcade and study together under Ignis’s watchful eye to make sure they didn’t stray from their books. He spent so much time with Prompto, and Luna was proud of herself and of them, too.

Even so, letters kept coming. Sometimes they took hours, sometimes they took weeks. It didn’t matter, though, because she’d always be there for him to make sure he was never alone anymore.

She was Lady Lunafreya, the Oracle from Tenebrae, one of Noctis’s closest and most trusted friends and his confidant. 

* * *

 

Luna was only half-terrified when a blonde with horrible bright hair and red eyes who looked a little bit too much like Noct stumbled into the room, and it only took her a moment to realize that  _it was_   _Noctis_. She’d almost giggled despite herself, but then Noct wrapped his arms around her and she could only think of the sheer happiness in his eyes.

Then she’d been introduced to his friends, and she felt content knowing that they had his back at all times. They were loyal to him, and they would always be, and that was exactly what the future King needed. 

Then she saw Prompto, and, well, he was using contacts and brown extensions. It creeped her out a bit, the way she just knew, but Noctis mentioned often in his letter how his eyes were so blue but at the same time violet and how his blonde hair made him look like a chocobo.

“Prompto?” she still asked, gently, because Prompto seemed like he was very unsure about everything going on, and the last thing she wanted was to scare him away.

At the mention of his name, Prompto visibly relaxed, looking at ease compared to how he was mere moments ago, and she took her chance to engulf him in a hug, and he didn’t flinch or protest against it.

“Thank you,” she whispered, because she meant it. Prompto had helped Noctis be the man he was today, and she was grateful that he had been there when she hadn’t been able to.

He nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly. She understood and she asked for nothing more.

From what she knew from Noct, Prompto was shy but would chat your ear off if you gave him a chance to, and he’d always make everyone feel like they’re important and made sure they knew that their opinions always matter. He liked photography and his camera was one of the latest models, thanks to yours truly, and he’d take pictures of what he didn’t want to forget (Noctis was bitter, and he felt like he was allowed to). He  _loved_  chocobos, and made Noctis promise that he’d take him to the chocobo wiz on Noct’s seventeenth birthday party. He was also really good at math even if he didn’t specifically like it, and he knew enough about technology to fix the prince’s devices (specifically his phone, which had once somehow been thrown into a lake three times in a month) several times. He also secretly watched romcoms with Noct, and they would go to the arcade at least once a week when they were in highschool. He was also good with both bows and guns, but he could handle most things with wires.

It had only taken seeing her dog with a small bandage on her leg and taken care of for Lunafreya to respect Prompto, but knowing that he remained loyal to him just made her save him a place in her heart as well.

She was the one to pull away from the hug first, and she turned to look at the others, who in turn glanced at each other. They probably weren’t used to women after being so much time away in a car with only men.

Luna smiled. “I believe it’s time to catch up,” and she threw Noct a playful look, because recently it was him who took longer to send letters back, and his replies were usually short and didn’t include details whatsoever. Besides, Gentiana could wait, and she knew that the situation must have them really tense, and they needed to relax, even if it was for a day or so.

The prince blushed, realizing that he hadn’t actually explained anything in said letters but merely showed that yes, he was still alive and everyone else was, too.

“Sit down,” she gestured at the couches as she did so herself, and Noctis plopped down with a soft groan (it had been a long walk, she supposed). Prompto awkwardly sat at his left side, followed by Gladiolus, and Ignis sat on a smaller couch that was closer to her.

The silence only lasted a few seconds, because the Oracle broke it. “Would it be rude to assume that you’ve taken Prompto to the chocobo wiz?” her grin had an underlying tone that not many noticed, only those that were close, and she was teasing him. Noct sent her a look of pure betrayal.

“He did,” Gladio answered for him, “a couple of times.” They had an entire bag stuffed with plushies, t-shirts, hats and chocobo food to prove it waiting for them in the Regalia, and the brothers were  _only_  mildly embarrassed about it. No one complained either, because they had enough bait and enough fishing rods to last several centuries, plus enough kitchen equipment for a family of ten and way too many books.

The Oracle’s smile was wider now. “Is that so?” and she turned to her childhood friend, who was too busy trying to rearrange his leather jacket.

Noctis gave a sheepish grin that soon turned devious. “A black chocobo stole Ignis’s glasses,” he said, automatically changing the spotlight to his advisor. “He made me grab them as he distracted it with food. It was  _hilarious_.”

Ignis at least had the decency to look somewhat ashamed, pushing his glasses further up his face. Gladiolus, on the other hand, cracked up laughing at the prospect of the man without his “corrective lenses”, “you gotta tell me that one later,” he said as he drew a gulp of air in. No one had been surprised (aside from Prompto, but it was because he hadn’t been there when the prince was a kid) when it had turned out that Noctis was actually a pretty damn good storyteller. He’d hook people into the story, he’d make different voices for the characters and act the events all by himself, sometimes managing to rope in the rest, and suddenly they’d be a group of dramatic young men around a campfire.

“ _Here, birdie-birdie. Look what I’ve brought you, yummy greens_ ,” Noctis fondly imitated his advisor’s accent, watching said man go a little bit red in the ears. Ah. He truly cherished the memory.

Luna joined as she laughed, though it was a careful laugh and she hid it behind the back of her hand. Still, it was a laugh, and Noctis grinned. He knew that she was trying to ease the tension- Ignis tended to be very suspicious about people even if they had good intentions, and even if Gladio was good at socializing, he never received special training on how to treat Oracles that happened to be the ex-fiancé of your prince. And now, Prompto was just as distrustful and somewhat socially awkward, but then again, all of them were- just at different areas each.

Besides, Luna was just good as that. She seemed to enjoy making friends and treasuring them. She valued every single one of the people she met and she felt better with herself when they were comfortable around her.

Noctis and Luna had been educated in a similar way, both surrounded by people who basically worshipped the ground they walked in, but they’d turn out very different. And they were still friends.

His mind vaguely registered Gladio telling one of his own anecdotes and gesturing wildly, “ _then there were four of those guys, and Noct was still a frog,_ ” cue laughing from Luna. Yeah, re remembered that one. He’d tried running (jumping?) away because he had been threatened to be cooked by Ignis, and had even managed to break free from Gladio’s grasp, but he was still caught by a very terrified Prompto who didn’t really want to understand the way magic worked or _why_ it even worked that way.

Well, sometimes remembering the good stuff that life gave you was a good cure for sadness. Sometimes.

Prompto seemed to be paying close attention, some of the phrasing by Gladio’s part (“ _-a fu-freaking frog? Can you believe it?_ ”) almost making him smile. His eyes twinkled with concentration and anticipation and he wasn’t fidgeting at all, his hands nestled on his legs.

And by good stuff, he meant his friends, his family and his people in general. Also, Prompto. He mainly meant Prompto- but was he really to blame? Nah, he didn’t think so. Blondie was too pure for this cruel, cruel world sometimes. And the prince had dragged his friend all around it anyway, and hadn’t complained once.

Ignis was actually mildly amused, which was a huge contrast from how he’d been embarrassed not too long ago. He was the listening type, always curious enough to hear whatever tales people came up with and he would usually participate in conversations, but it seemed like this was out of his league. He still seemed content enough to just _listen_ , though.

They were all calm and collected, almost like there were no threats looming by their heads.

Still, they couldn’t ignore the actual purpose for their visit.

Noctis knew that even if Luna was unable to do anything about Prompto, he’d still forgive her. Scratch that, he wouldn’t even have to forgive anyone because there would be nothing to forgive. If anything, he’d have to apologize about just intruding into Luna’s very busy agenda without prior warning and hope things turned out for the best.

He knew it would be okay, though. Prompto sometimes did the impossible.

It wasn’t easy for someone to trust a group of three people who, as far as said person knew, had never been on his life before or had most likely betrayed him, and Prompto had just gone and done that.

And Prompto was held captive by none other than the chancellor, and what did he do? He stopped himself from being fed fake stories and held his own, and went against his instincts of hurting them.

Who else held the prince so that his feet would touch the ground? It was still Prompto, whose stupid ideas always got them into trouble in highschool because somehow they were both too curious about the world. And now that he went back and thought of it, it had been because he’d been too sheltered and because Prompto had truly never seen anything like it and never had a chance to share it with a friend.

* * *

 

Luna laughed, knowing that the stories she heard were true because it just sounded like a thing Noctis would do. And, well. She could forget about her manners and being all lady-like for a while, couldn’t she? She was surrounded by men. Of course she could.

It was nothing like being with Ravus, who encouraged her dreams but at the same time told her the chances of them actually happening- no, it was more like being told to just go wild and forgetting about everything else for just a moment.

Noct’s friends had that kind of effect. It was a good ability when it was used to keep the prince’s mind away from the tragedy that his life seemed to be. But it wasn’t truly a tragedy, because he had the chance to make things take a turn for the better.

Also, Noct as a frog? _That_ was the kind of content she liked to hear.

They’d joked as children about how Luna would grow to be a writer, and she’d accepted her role as his biographer- this was a good addition to the non-existent book.

Someday, someday she’d write it. But not right now, not when there was so much she could learn.

Okay. So she did take pleasure on hearing how her childhood friend (at this point, he was her brother) was changed into a frog and the time he was sheltered by a pack of chocobos and how he’d accidentaly used women body wash instead of shampoo (perhaps he used women shampoo? His soft hair was proof) once and he had smelled like tropical fruits for a whole day.

She was glad to acknowledge that this was what Noct’s family was like, and that Noctis knew it, too.

Now she just had to know what kind of help he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> imagine this is an actual note.
> 
> edit: sorry it cut short at the end- but it was only a few words, no need to worry. also, i'm sorry but i had to do a transition chapter// next one. next one will be better.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks a lot for reading! i love you!


End file.
